


Misery's Cure

by serialfangirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, Dramedy, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hansy - Freeform, Inappropriate Humor, It's not what you think, Meddling mothers, Slow Burn, it started as fun then i just depressed myself, pwp kinda but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-12 17:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9082534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serialfangirl/pseuds/serialfangirl
Summary: Being sixteen is hard enough without your mother meddling in your romantic life - especially if that mother is hellbent on you marrying Draco Malfoy. As if oily skin, unbearable classmates, endless school projects wasn't enough, Pansy Parkinson must now face an overwhelming sense of darkness both around her and within her. Her suffering is inexplicable, and everyone around her is at a loss when it comes to lessening her agony. Though, shagging does help.





	1. Mother!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an introduction chapter, very short and sweet, but it should set up the rest of this story for you. To clear up any confusion, in any fic I write, my Pansy is always Asian because that's already how I've seen her in my mind since I read HP as a kid. Now, this is your chapter summary:
> 
> A summer away from her friends and being stranded with her mother at their estate (under the guise of being "properly introduced to society" through a series of banquets, balls, and lunches) was bad enough without Iris Parkinson then poking her french manicured finger into her daughters' sex life. Luckily, Pansy is heading back to Hogwarts now, though little did she know that alone would bring its own troubles soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 2017, and I'm working towards doing the hobbies I love. That mainly including writing fics. I graduated college in May 2016 and in September I started my first "big girl" job, and since then I've lost my way a bit. But I'm coming back to what I consider one of my main passions. 
> 
> This story started as a Hansy PWP, but then a plot just... grew? By itself? Now it's darker, angsty, and it's looking like a trilogy. How fun!
> 
> To those who follow my "The Devil is in the Details" Muggle World Hansy AU fic, I am picking that back up with a fiery passion. I already have five more chapters in the bank and, since I don't have a beta, I am editing it (and this fic) by myself. I apology for any and all typos, and if there are any Hansy betas out there, I would greatly appreciate a helping hand.

**September 1st, 1996**

She heard her mother's’ voice -- crisp and strict with a slight lisp that she typically controlled unless she was in a hurry -- but honestly the words all blended together in a long stream of nonstop jabbering. Iris Parkinson was many things; concise she was not.

Among the list of things that she _is_ however, including overbearing, pretentious, demeaning, authoritative, controlling, demanding, ostentatious--

“--and I know for a _fact_ that Narcissa has been having regular brunches with-- Pansy? _Pansy_? Are you even listening--”

“ _Yes,_ ” she answered her mother with a tired sigh, letting her head fall back momentarily before looking glancing back at the older woman’s disapproving scowl. “The Malfoys have been in talks with the Greengrasses to betroth Draco and Astoria even though she’s still fourteen and doesn’t even having childbearing hips yet and her voice is shrill and--”

“ _And_ ,” Iris interrupted as a house elf popped into the sitting room with a tea serving platter. Pansy, excited to finally have something other than the hem of her summer dress to busy her hands with greedily awaited to be served. “I always thought Narcissa and I shared the same hope for you and Draco to--”

“Mother--"

“ _Darling_ \--”

“Don’t say it--”

“Pansy, I--”

“Merlin’s fucking--” Pansy stopped herself with a sip of tea before her mother could loudly object to her language. Her infatuation with Draco had ended years prior, and yet her mother seemed more obsessed than ever with the prospect of her only daughter marrying the sole Malfoy heir. Of course she was aware that her daughters’ childish crush was over and it was not as if she had deluded herself into thinking the two teenagers were actually _in love_ or anything. No, her mother’s reasoning for pushing this relationship was quite a simple one, really.

Merging the families and escalating the Parkinson name. Iris had been but a simple and inconsequential member of the Suzuki family prior to marrying Pansy’s late father -- pure-blood, sure, but still the family was not old nor pure enough to be a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Therefore, she married _up._ A ancestor of the Parkinson family had been Minister of Magic, after all, and in the Wizarding World social status and surname went hand in hand. And like any good mother, Iris strove to ensure her daughter’s life would exceed even past her own accomplishments.

And marrying a Malfoy, permanently joining their two families through a magical union, well that was just the epitome of social success, was it not? And when a twelve-year-old Pansy came back home from her first year at Hogwarts and proudly proclaimed that she would be the lucky girl to marry Draco Lucius Malfoy, Iris nearly burst into tears. And when a fourteen year old Pansy announced that her longest running crush had invited her to the Yule Ball, Iris immediately set the next stage for her plotting and scheming to have the pair betrothed, even while Narcissa was dragging her feet. And when a fifteen year old Pansy was named Prefect alongside Draco himself, her mother beamed with pride not due to her daughter’s exemplary academic achievements, but because fate, it’s _real_ , you see. And when a sixteen year old Pansy told her mother that Draco Malfoy, well, he’s _old news_ and she no longer wished to become the future Lady Malfoy--

That had ruined everything.

“You’re not taking this seriously, my love,” Iris said disapprovingly after a short pause. It took every ounce of willpower, down to her very core, for Pansy not to roll her eyes right then and there. To control her own emotions, she merely reached forward and clasped her hands around her warm tea cup.

“Mother, I’m not a child anymore,” she said slowly, as if explaining something to a particularly difficult child. She took a deep breath and another sip of tea before continuing, “Draco and I-- we’re just friends, you understand? It was fun while it lasted but we just don’t feel that way about each other. Besides, Lady Malfoy was never warm on the idea--”

“Narcissa Malfoy is a pompous old bat,” Iris cut in again, this time her eyes narrowing with discontent. “And even she wouldn’t have been able to fight the _true love_ blooming between you and Draco.”

“We _do_ love each other--”

“Pansy, tell me honestly,” Iris reached forward and placed her hand over her daughter’s, their eyes locking across the small table, a tense pause between mother and daughter, “have you had sex with Draco Malfoy?”

“Mother!”

“ _Pansy_ ,” she said sternly as she picked up her own cup and saucer. “I don’t mean to be crass--”

“Then _don’t_ be!”

“Don’t interrupt,” she responded swiftly after she blow lightly on her tea to cool it down. “But I know for a fact that the young Malfoy has a similar propensity as most young men. Rumor has it, he has spent this summer gallivanting around France, meeting young witches and--”

“I don’t need to hear this, mother,” she said in a low voice. Her mother may read her discomfort as jealousy upon hearing that her ex-boyfriend was enjoying the bodies of other women, and Pansy didn’t bother to correct her. She and Draco made better friends than lovers and while they had shagged casually in the past -- and perhaps will continue to in the future -- she could not find it in her to care who he may or may not be spending time with while she was not around. In fact, the more he was sexually distracted, the better. Draco was much better company after an orgasm.

“But _now_ ,” Iris pressed forward, “Narcissa is vetting the Greengrasses, spending time with Carole and Astoria, all sorts of meals and dates together--”

“Oh the _brunches,_ Merlin, _no_ ,” Pansy added sardonically, purposefully ignoring her mother’s glare.

“And they’ll be betrothed before you know it. The older girl has been promised to Flint for nearly her entire life, and now the family is trying to snag a real prize. Why don’t you understand, Pansy? Your father would have been able to secure this betrothal, but I can’t make this happen without your cooperation. We were-- you were _so close_ , darling.”

Pansy looked down at Rorschach-esque tea leaves at the bottom of her empty tea cup. At best, Iris was autocratic, at worst she was neurotic but ultimately she was still _her mother_. She was the only person in the world who loved her unconditionally and, theoretically, everything she did was meant to be in Pansy’s best interest. After her father died, Iris made it her life’s mission to ensure her daughter had the easier, most worry free life a growing girl could hope for. Now, as a young woman preparing to embark on her own path, Pansy needed to face the fact that Iris needed _her_ , as pathetic as it seemed.

Gods, if only she didn’t act like such a _bitch_ about it all.

“Mother, I--” Pansy started before the sound of a far off bell tore her from the moment. “ _Shite_ , mum, the train--”

Before Iris could properly chide her daughter on her language, Pansy leapt from her seat, sending the chair spinning backwards away from her, and dashed out of the sitting room. Of course, in true Iris Parkinson fashion, her mother had waited until the last day of the summer to complain about her daughter’s lack of affection for Draco, but Pansy immediately pushed those thoughts from her mind as she ran into her room.

Honestly, there was nothing else in the world she wanted to think about less. She and Draco were in the past and her childhood crush had been just that -- _childish._ If she had known that her mother would continue to obsess about it years after she was put that part of her life behind her, she wouldn’t have stupidly mentioned Draco in the first place. They had known each other as children, but it was only after they were both sorted into Slytherin and spent most days together that she and Draco truly connected.

What a bloody mistake that was.

Draco was a cruel child and Pansy had desperately wanted to be liked. And just like that, their futures seemed irrevocably tied. Now, Pansy held no ill will for Draco -- they were still friends, after all, one of the few each had -- but the the romantic feelings (or obsession, more appropriately) were dead and gone. Her mother, unfortunately, had been to ask the question before. She and Draco had lost their virginities to each other after the Yule Ball, but after that anything resembling mutual romantic intentions were dead. Pansy, for one, was grateful. She was able to move on. And Draco is a sixteen year old boy. He didn’t need to be told twice.

Wand in hand, she quickly shouted a handful of organization, packing, and cleaning spells and less than ten minutes later her trunks were prepared after a simple _wingardium leviosa_ they followed her to the foyer where her mother was waiting. Gratefully, Iris said nothing more about her nonexistent future marriage and Pansy dropped her defenses slightly. This was a goodbye after all.

“Mother,” she said in a small voice, part acknowledgement, part apology in one word.

“Darling,” she replied as she reached forward, placing a delicate hand on her daughter’s soft cheek. She let out a soft sigh and Pansy mimicked it instinctively and just as she reached up to put her hand over her mother’s, Iris pulled back, reached for her wand and with a silent _flick_ called a small-sized to fly over to them until it landed her open palm. “Potions for your complexion, sweetheart. I hate to admit it, but your father's’ genes are just _overpowering_ and those blackheads nearly have a personality of their own--”

“ _Mother_!” the small, girlish voice was gone as Pansy flushed, her hand flying cover her nose as she glared at her mother.

“Drink one now, dear. And another every other day.”

Iris’ no-nonsense tone overpowered Pansy’s offended expression and, still sneering at her mother’s insensitivity, she reached towards the open case and selected a tiny vial of pale purple liquid. There were thirteen more left in two rows. Iris closed the case with a satisfied tiny as Pansy quickly downed the vial with a grimace. “I’ll send you replenishments in a month. Every. Other. Day. Don’t forget. The clerk at the shop told me this is the best facial potion on the market and I won’t have you wasting my money--”

“Alright, I get it,” she interrupted in a tired voice, her mother’s scolds be damned. But to her surprise, Iris said nothing of her unladylike interruptions and she only continued to smile as she packed the case of potions into her trunk.

“Have a lovely school year, Pansy. Will I see you over the Christmas holiday?”

Pansy scowled and lugged her trunk behind her as she headed towards the fireplace that would take her to King’s Cross Station. “I’ll think about it. _King’s Cross Station_!”

A large poof of green smoke later, and her only child was gone, and yet the smile on Iris’ face remained as she thought about the purple potion secured carefully in Pansy’s school trunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneak peak to the next chapter:
> 
>  
> 
> _“One thing is for sure,” Pansy said with pursed lips, her voice immediately interrupting the chatter. “I won’t be taking DADA this year. I barely got an Exceeds Expectations as it is, but Snape’s requiring Outstanding to take the N.E.W.T-level course. I bought the bloody book and everything. What a fucking farce.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“You should have tried a bit harder, Parkinson,” Draco provoked and Pansy restrained herself from digging her elbow into his side. Instead, she reached over his slouching body and snatched the bottle from his hand so she could take her own gulp._


	2. Starting the Semester With a Bang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy Parkinson is finally back with her friends and though she wishes to be happy, apparently her brain and body have other ideas. Surely she's just anxiety after a summer without seeing her friends, right? Everything is far more confusing than they appear, and what was supposed to be a breezy year is starting to become far more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two is much longer, and this reflects the chapters to come since chapter one was clearly just an introduction to are main gal. I know there is no "hansy" just yet, but please hold tight! Like I mentioned in the tags, this is a bit of a slow burn with a couple twists and turns.
> 
> Also, please mention in the comments and theories that you have brewing! I love those!

**September 1st, 1996 (afternoon)**

A deep feeling of dread settled into the pit of Pansy's stomach as she pushed her cart through the magical barrier and was immediately faced with hundreds of students preparing to board the Hogwarts express. There was no particular reason why - her entrance had only earned a handful of glances and none of them had been particularly malicious - but she still found herself taking a series of deep breaths, her eyebrows furrowing together as she attempted to present herself properly in front of her classmates. With a grunt, she pulled her trunk onto the train and elbowed past students lingering by the entrance door to wave to their parents. While she was a about head taller than most of the first years, Pansy had inherited her mother's small stature and as a result moving through thick crowds was a dangerous endeavor for her.

"Get the _fuck out of my_ -"

"Pansy!"

Upon hearing her name, and especially the familiar voice, Pansy's head shot up and her features scrunched together as she tried to see through the crowd. This was always the worst part of the trip - arriving late and having to fight her way through the throngs of students to find her classmates. Thankfully, Blaise Zabini's waving hand led her to the end of the train. With a tired sigh she forced her way through the sliding door and finally fell back against it when it slammed shut.

"For fuck's sake, this gets worse each year," she said, whipping her head back and forth to rid a few stray strands of hair from her face. She was sweaty and her arms ached from pulling her trunk behind her for so long, not to mention her generally depressed feeling after leaving her mother. Iris had a very specific way of bringing down her daughter's mood but their conversation earlier takes the cake.

She pretended not to notice Draco and Blaise glancing at each other as she heaved her bulky school trunk into the overhead compartment. She needed to brace herself for six hours of constant Draco/Blaise banter, and in her current mood that was easier said than done. Her skin felt like iron and her heart clenched every few second unexpectedly, though nothing around her could explain it, only the fact that her mother's voice repeatedly echoed in her mind. What a miserable woman she was - pushing her own fears onto her daughter, attempting to make things with Draco more awkward than they needed to be. As exes, they could not be in a better place than they were at the moment; jovial, teasing, and if they were drunk, a shag or two. However, marriage was - and always will be - the farthest thing from their minds.

"You're both disgustingly quiet," she finally said as she wiped the sweat from her brow and collapsed into the seat next to Draco. She glanced at Blaise who, once again, merely shared a look with Draco. "Oh, fucking hell-"

"Pansy," Draco started, only to be immediately interrupted.

"You don't look very good," Blaise said honestly, his expression devoid of his usual teasing smirk.

"What?" her back instinctively straightened and Pansy looked back and forth between Blaise and Draco, though the latter only looked out the window while Blaise shared a sympathetic look. "This is a new blouse, Zabini, screw you."

"Calm yourself, love," he leaned back in his seat and after a tense beat, a tiny smirk slid onto his features. "You look tired, is all. And like you don't want to be here."

"Well, I don't," she spat back folding her arms over her chest. She sighed and closed her eyes as she leaned back as well, trying to will away the heaviness in her stomach. "Will someone just distract me from the impending doom that is this next school year?"

"I hear Draco has some news," Blaise quickly mentioned, causing Draco to stiffen beside her.

"Fuck off."

"No, I heard something as well," Pansy's gaze slid over to her former boyfriend as her grin widened. "When are you going to invite us to your upcoming nuptials, dear?"

" _Fuck off_ ," he repeated, as he shifted around and glared at her.

"Oh, _darling,_ no need to be sensitive. I know a girl's wedding day is the most important day of her life-"

"For Merlin's sake," he groaned as Blaise and Pansy erupted into laughter. Closing his eyes, Draco leaned against Pansy until he fell back onto the seat and shifted downward to lay his head on her lap. She moved her hands aside to make room for him and began threading her fingers through his head without hesitation. It felt natural between the two of them, the sort of intimacy that could have been either romantic or familial, and Pansy thought nothing of it, especially since she felt his proximity to her soothe her slightly. "There's nothing going on with Greengrass. Our mother's are talking, that's all, and I honestly couldn't care less. I have more important things to worry about."

What had momentarily been a calm, enjoyable atmosphere immediately became tense again. Judging by the look on Blaise's face, they both had the same idea. It came as no shock to anyone that the Dark Lord had spent the summer at the Malfoy Manor, and that meant her mother was likely wrong about Draco prancing throughout continental Europe getting his cock wet.

"Is this about-"

"Anything off the trolley? _A-anything_ off the trolley?"

The three Slytherins looked up at the familiar shrill voice nearing their compartment. Seconds later, the door slid open and the Honeydukes trolley stopped in front of them, the sudden noise causing Draco to shot up from his spot on Pansy's lap, which immediately caused a pang of irritation to rattle her bones.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?"

"No, we don't want anything off your bloody _trolley_ ," Pansy spat, her bad mood revving back out of the blue, along with an equal sense of confusion. "Close the fucking door."

"Harsh, Pansy," Blaise said dryly as he looked down at his cuticles, but the trolley lady slammed the door shut regardless, her face red with either anger or embarrassment.

"Whatever," she exhaled. "Just- just lay back down, Draco. What happened this summer?" Draco, apparently sharing Pansy's bad mood now, though she couldn't tell why, flopped back down on the seat. She stroked his hair again and bit back a smirk.

"Does it fucking matter?" he growled, letting his eyes close as he enjoyed the comforts of Pansy's attention. "We're back on the Hogwarts Express, anyway, there's nothing left to worry about expect surviving this bloody school year."

"Surviving?" Blaise raised an eyebrow, and this time it was Pansy's turn to share a look with him.

"You know what I mean. Quidditch, exams, Harry fucking Potter. All of it, all over again. But who knows - this may just be my last year."

Pansy's hands froze where they were, her fingers midway to the end of lightly scratching Draco's scalp. "What?"

"I don't know," he said in a low voice, not shy, but far more ominous than how he had been speaking before. "Things are changing, you two can tell, you're not idiots. I'm outgrowing Hogwarts, it's just not the place for me anymore. The things I need to know- the things I need to _learn,_ it won't happen in that castle, that's for fucking sure."

"Malfoy, what are you-"

"Enough," his eyes snapped back out and he glared at Blaise for a moment before his expression softened. "Zabini, I'm tired. I need a nap before I can deal with the rest of those morons."

A loud crash from outside their compartment followed a series of giggles highlighted Draco's insult and Pansy said nothing more. If he wanted to expand on his point, he would have, but instead she felt his breathing slow down and steady beneath her and she knew he had fallen asleep - or spending the summer with Lord Voldemort had turned him into a brilliant liar. Either way, their conversation was over.

**September 1st, 1996 (evening)**

"Where's Nott?" Pansy asked six hours later as the train began slowing to a halt into Hogsmeade Station. Typically their wiry, quiet friend spent the ride with them but Pansy and Draco had left and came back from the Prefects meeting without even seeing him.

"Off pouting somewhere," Blaise said with a shrug. "He and Carrow finally ended things and you know our dear Teddy has always been the wallowing, mourning, and grieving type."

"Oh that's too bad," she responded, though her sardonic tone easily dampened the sincerity of her concern. "Which Carrow was he dating again? Hestia?"

"Nah. Flora," he replied before throwing a rucksack over his shoulders and hauling his trunk through the small compartment door. Though they typically traveled in the same circles, Pansy he could never tell the difference between those two silent, sullen girls but she couldn't have Theodore wallowing after a mere break-up, so she quickly planned a simple revenge against them. Partly because he is theoretically a friend, and partly because Pansy loved taking advantage of any opportunity to reestablish her superiority over the girls in her house.

"Well, he better have at least saved us a carriage," she cleared her throat in discontent, "and I won't have him moping in front of me. It does no good for my complexion and-"

"You two go ahead," Draco spoke suddenly as he stood at the center of the compartment. He didn't bother to look over his shoulder as his friends gave him a pair of strange looks.

"Draco, you're going to miss the-"

"I'll be right out," he snapped, finally turning around the slam the door shut in their faces.

Pansy felt her face flush as Draco's face disappeared behind the window blind. She swallowed dry but before she could open the door again, maybe to wait for him to finish or perhaps even beg him to just go with them, she felt Blaise tug at her elbow.

" _We'll_ miss the carriages if we don't get going," he muttered and Pansy reluctantly followed. She was beginning to feel better about the upcoming school year in the few short hours she spent with Draco, however as she and Blaise disembarked, the tightening in her chest returned and she felt herself blindly reach for her friend's hand just to keep herself moving.

"You alright?" Blaise said over his shoulder as she slid her fingers through his, and his hand tightened around her.

"Just trying not to lose you," she replied lightheartedly as they weaved their way through the crowd. Keeping close to Blaise, Pansy let out a comfortable sigh as the gripping feeling of anxiety slowly melted away.

Before she could truly relax, however, Blaise suddenly jerked her to the right and they began making a beeline towards the end of the line of self-riding carriages. Seconds later, they came back to face with Theodore Nott listlessly guarding a four-seater.

"Zabini," he said with a curt nod. "Hello, Pansy."

"Theo," she greeted him with in a brighter tone than she felt. He reached down and helped her onto the carriage with a delicate hand and Blaise was quick to follow after. He didn't look as pathetic as she had assumed he would be. Pansy took a short moment to study her mild-mannered friends' soft features. He looked, generously speaking, _serene._ However, he spoke before she could mention anything.

"Where's Draco?"

"Missing me, are you, Nott?"

 _Speak of the devil and he doth appear,_ Pansy thought as Draco seemingly appeared out of nowhere and sat himself noisily next to Blaise, who immediately smirked at his best mate's grandstanding.

"Who wouldn't?" was Theo's quiet response.

"I hear I'm not the only fine arse you're missing these days, Teddy boy."

Theo's typically expressionless face immediately darkened into a scowl as he turned towards Blaise, who has taken a sudden and intense interest in the sunset over their shoulders.

"You promised you wouldn't say anything," Pansy couldn't tell if he was disappointed or angry, though judging by Blaise's refusal to meet him in the eye, she had a good idea about how Theo felt. "Flora won't be happy knowing people are discussing our break-up-"

"Who cares what that cunt did? She left _you_ , mate. You're not obligated to do anything for her anymore," Draco waved off his concerns dismissively, and before he could reply, they all lurched suddenly as the carriage began to move towards the castle. Theo looked over his shoulder and quickly did a double take to the invisible creature he annually insisted was pulling the carriage before turning to around again, this time shifting his glare from Blaise to Draco.

"She didn't break-up with me. I left her."

That left the three Slytherins in the carriage silent, sharing equally impassive glances, though a mutual amount of surprise was simmering beneath the surface. It wasn't as if they thought he was lying - after all, breaking off things off with the sullen, lackluster fifth year was an accomplishment - it was merely a shock that he had been the one to do it.

"I, er," he cleared his throat, his cheeks slightly pink, and continued after an extended moment of silence, "no longer shared the same feelings. If it end, it became clear that our expectations our relationship were... at odds. And, well, the differences were irreconcilable."

"Ah," Draco was the first to speak, as always. "All's well that ends well, I suppose. You have my congratulations, at least."

Pansy rolled her eyes and Theo merely responded with a scoff and looked away. With a sigh, and after shooting a glare at Draco for good measure, she placed her hand on Theo's bare forearm and forced him to look at her again.

"Whatever, it wasn't meant to be," she said simply in her typical snippy manner - curtly honest, but with a hint of comfort in her tone. "Time to move up and forward, yeah?"

He looked down at her hand on him then back at her, and she felt her fingertips tingle over his pale skin as if his gaze alone was enough to melt a bit of tension from her shoulders. He didn't smile, and neither did she, but that wasn't the Slytherin way.

Theo only nodded.

"Yeah."

**September 1st, 1996 (late evening)**

"Did you see his face? Disgusting. His little mudblood girlfriend nearly fainted at the sight of him. And _Weasley_ , I didn't think it was possible for that imbecile to look even _stupider_ than he does on a daily basis. Oh, what a bloody riot it was over at Gryffindor table. Thomas was practically fingering the Weasley girl under the table, Granger nearly _wept_ over her poor little hero, and the whole lot of them were-"

"Why was he bleeding in the first place-"

"Leave it to a Gryffindor to start drama the first day back-"

"No, leave it to _Potter-_ "

"You weren't talking much, Malfoy-"

"- food this year was atrocious-"

"The Weasley girl? A slag, honestly-

""- I can't even believe they were so _blatant-_ "

"Oh, I enjoyed the pudding-"

"Is no one going to mention the fact that our Head of House is now teaching Defense of the Dark Arts?" Blaise interrupted in a bored voice, stopping Daphne Greengrass, and the rest of the rowdy group, in the middle of their tipsy recountings of the evening's events. As part of a yearly tradition, the older Slytherins had taken over the dark yet expensively decorated common room on the first night of the year, and the small group of students were passing around a couple bottles of Blishen's. The lake often gave the room a green tint during the day, but at night the large floor-to-ceiling windows were nearly back, the bottom of the ocean completely darkened by the lack of light given by a new moon.

Draco suddenly looked up and pocketed the small dagger he had been using to clean invisible dirt from beneath his fingernails. Pansy watched him carefully to her left, where he was pressed against her in the loveseat they shared. Across from them, on the other side of the table, Blaise snagged his own love seat, and had himself draped over the ends. Every couple of minutes, he swung his feet back and forth before crossing his ankles again, a complete picture of confidence and absolute comfort, a man with nothing to prove. The sofa to the left and right of them were also full with a number of this classmates, including Nott, who was noticeably more quiet than usual. Notably excluded from there circle was a small group of fifth years at the far end of the common room, where Flora and Hestia were apparently sharing the most harrowing tale of the century.

"He's been begging for that shite position for years," he drawled with a lazy smirk. Draco reached forward and snatched the bottle of firewhisky from the table and griped it loosely by the neck as he took a long swig. "He's been applying for it every year, as if he'll be the lucky bastard to finally settle in for more than nine months."

"Do you think this means we'll be saying goodbye to our dear professor at the end of the school year?" Blaise's smirk widened, though there was no telling if he teasing maliciously or earnestly wanted their Head of House ousted.

"I certainly hope not," Millicent Bulstrode said from with a deep frown as she crossed her arms over her chest, accidentally elbowing Theo in the side. He winced but said nothing, as the girl was easily had several stones heavier than him. "We'll be persecuted by the other professors. McGonagall herself can't bloody stand us."

"Speak for yourself," Daphne said snootily, sounding like the poshy Scotswoman she is. Terence, who had been eyeing her carefully throughout the evening, snickered.

"Don't act as if _you're_ generally liked, sweetheart-"

"Oh, _sod_   _off-"_

"One thing is for sure," Pansy said with pursed lips, her voice immediately interrupting the chatter. "I won't be taking DADA this year. I barely got an _Exceeds Expectations_ as it is, but Snape's requiring _Outstanding_ to take the N.E.W.T-level course. I bought the bloody book and everything. What a fucking farce."

"You should have tried a bit harder, Parkinson," Draco provoked and Pansy restrained herself from digging her elbow into his side. Instead, she reached over his slouching body and snatched the bottle from his hand so she could take her own gulp. She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or being in such close proximity to Draco, but she felt better than pressed against him in the loveseat than she did in the Great Hall and earlier in the Hogwarts Express.

 _Definitely the whisky_ she thought with a lazy smile as she placed the bottle on the table and slid it across theo Blaise.

"You can take potions now, actually," Theo's quiet voice broke the momentary silence and caused Pansy's eyes to slowly find his. "Slughorn is accepting _Exceeds Expectations_ to enter his course."

"Great," she snorted. "More _potions_. More clipped nails and frizzy hair and sweaty classrooms - exactly what I wanted in my sixth year."

"Come on. Take potions, Pansy," Blaise drawled as he let his head fall back onto the arm of his loveseat. "Slughorn is teaching so it's bound to be a laugh. I had lunch with him on the train and he's a certified buffoon. We'll have a fucking riot in that class. And Millie be there too, won't you? And Theo-"

"I will be paying attention, at least," he cut in before Blaise could continue. "I also got an _Outstanding_ in Arithmancy as well so I figured I might as well continue down that path and see where it goes. Professor Vector seems to think I've got the makings of an Unspeakable in me."

"That's bloody well impressive, Nott," Draco said with as much sincerity as he could muster, which was saying a lot. Theo's expression remained unchanged even as Millicent threw her arm around his shoulders and gave him a tight squeeze.

"Thank you," he grimaced, then cleared his throat and glanced at his watch. "It's late."

"Don't be a ponce, Theo," Bletchley, who had his arm securely around Fawley's shoulders the entire night, "The bottle's not even finished."

"Well, I for one have an eight-thirty class that I'd rather not have a hangover for," he responded dryly as he tore himself from Millicent's grasp. "There's only so many times you can repeat the seventh year before they stop letting you come back, Bletchley, so I suggest you sleep in your own bed tonight as well. Goodnight, everyone."

Stiff-spined and chin high, Theo turned his back on the circle of his classmates and headed towards the boys' dormitory.

"Brutal of you, Nott," Blaise said before letting out a soft burp. "But still correct. McGonagall is bad enough in the mornings, I don't need an additional headache. See you all tomorrow."

After Blaise followed Theo's retreating back up the stairs, a disgruntled Bletchley brought himself up to his feet and bid the group a quiet farewell. Slowly but surely, the rest of the students filed out as well, along with the fifth years that had been seated across the room, until only Pansy and Draco were left - shoulder to shoulder - passing the bottle of Blishen's back in forth in silence.

"So," she finally spoke first. "Are you going to tell me about this summer?"

Draco said nothing and only opened his mouth to take repeated sips from the bottle, merely allowing the silence to grow between them until Pansy got fed up and sent a sharp glare his way.

"Draco-"

"Don't."

He had said it so quietly, Pansy almost thought she imagined it, but when his head fell back, eyes tightly closed, she knew they had reached a line where she could either shut up or he'll simply shut down.

"I missed you, in case you were wondering."

"Draco," she sighed and clumsily took the bottle from his hand. "I'm not your girlfriend. I don't have to be very nice to you-"

"That's not what I meant," his voice cut her harshly, enough to cause Pansy to recoil in the tight space. "Pansy-"

"I know what you meant," she responded quickly, though she realized she couldn't bring herself to be insulted. The distraught feeling she had on her way to the Hogwarts Express, and intermittently throughout the entire day, seemed to be replaced with something else entirely, something that was pulling her towards him, even though she knew what he wanted. Her thoughts felt clouded, but his motivations were clear.

 _And I want it too_ , she thought.

 _And I'm tipsy_ , was her second thought.

"I know what you meant," she repeated in a low voice. She awkwardly shifted in the small seat, placed the bottle on the table in front of them, and turned to straddle Draco in one clumsy movement. "Draco-"

"I missed you," he repeated. His eyes were half-lidded as he secured his hands on her waist and moved beneath her until their pelvises were aligned and she could feel his erection growing in his trousers. "I _did_."

"I did too," she muttered before digging her teeth into her bottom lip and leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his jawline then aimed for his lips but missed just barely. As if being teenagers who had dated on and off for years before giving up for the sake of their sanity didn't make this interaction awkward enough, Pansy felt the whiskey slosh back and forth in the pit of her stomach, making each of her movements even more amateurish than the last. Luckily Draco's impatience took control and he lifted a hand to the nape of her neck, pushing her face forward until their lips slammed together with a force that _told_ her just how much he had missed her.

Within seconds, her hands flew to his shirt and buttons were discarded in every which way, and her blouse was next. Chest to chest, they moved against each other, desperately, _drunkenly,_ trying to find the friction they had both missed all summer long. Draco's hand found its way to her knickers and he shoved them aside with little regard, not bothering to remove her skirt in the heat of his arousal. Pansy gasped then moaned, ignoring the cold feeling of his fingers inside her. He pumped in and out of her as their tongues danced to a familiar song above. Her fingers tangled themselves in his thin blond hair and his free hand began to tug and pull on her small breasts, until her nipples were taut and raw and she could hardly take it any more. Pansy felt her very core erupt with pleasure - a stark difference to the tension she had felt since the morning.

Before long, Draco had Pansy's body rocking back and forth on top of him, her wetness dripping past his knuckles as her body physically begged for a release. Directly beneath her, she could tell he desperately needed the same.

"Please-" she gasped, her fingernails now digging into his bare shoulders. She could hardly speak, her body was on fire and she knew there was only one thing that could help. "Draco, just- _just-_ "

He didn't need to be told twice. As disappointed as she sounded when he withdrew his lithe, skilled fingers, her shaky hands reached down and tugged at his belt frantically until she freed him from his trousers. She slammed her lips against Draco's again, just for a moment as she blindly gripped his member to guide him into her. They both gasped when he finally entered her and she felt him freeze beneath her, their pelvises locked together as she adjusted around him.

" _Fu-uck_ ," he exhaled slowly as he drew his lips away from hers and let his head fall back, his fingertips digging into her hips. "I've been thinking about this."

"So you did miss me," she said breathlessly, adding a nervous giggle as she moved against him. It was an irritating little laugh, even she knew that about herself, but Pansy didn't have time to restrain it when it bubbled up from the pit of stomach. She felt such a release of tension and an explosion of pleasure, there was no sane sound that was prepared to come out of her.

Luckily, Draco didn't chide nor tease her, instead his chuckle joined hers and she felt his body shake beneath her.

"Yes," he hissed as his hips stirred and buckled beneath her, "and I missed _this_."

She would be lying if she said she didn't missed their late night escapades as well, and even more so after such an inexplicably ghastly day. She allowed herself to fully enjoyed the experience, taking no shame in throwing her head back letting herself move against him in earnest. Pansy moaned and secured her hands on his shoulders, her sharp nails digging into his flesh. "Please- _please_ \- I'm-"

Draco's confident smirk slid from his features and he grunted as her cries reaches his ears. His hips, which first moved gradually and purposely to draw out their act, now thrusted upward erratically until he couldn't hold himself back anymore.

"Fu- _fuck_. I'm- _Pa_ -" Draco froze, his entire body seemingly rigid as he came and emptied himself in her. Pansy nearly wished that he had said her entire name but there was no such luck. Still, she slowly rocked against him until he was spent and his hands loosened their tight hold on her waist.

"Dr- Draco," she muttered as she threaded her fingers through his hair and peppered light kisses on his jaw line. It felt right, didn't it? It felt exactly how it was meant to be - their sweaty bodies pressed against each other, her arms around him, and his around her. It was felt so _right_.

"Pan- Pansy," Draco answered after a beat as she draw his arms back. "It's getting late _-_ "

Almost as if on automatic, Pansy braced herself on his shoulders once more, pushed herself off and struggled to her feet. She adjusted her knickers back to their original place then gave a sorry attempt to smooth her hair down with her damp palms. It was if the entire thing never happened. Draco cleared his throat as he reached down and tugged his trousers back on, his face still red from their sex. He didn't bother to button his shirt again as he stood and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Great start to a new semester," he smirked in his knowing way. Draco leaned down and left a light kiss on her forehead before turning away and walking towards the boys' dorms. "See you in Potions," he called over his shoulder as he ascended the winding winding staircase.

After she collected herself, Pansy went up the girls' staircase and silently crept thrown her own dormitory until she reaches her bed. It _was_ late, or less she would have bathed before she slipped out of her school uniform and into her sheets. After setting her wand on her nightstand, she pressed her hands together and laid her head on them above her pillow. Before she could fall asleep, she felt her eyes sting beneath her eyelids. The tears fell before she could stop them and even though Pansy knew very well how her casual relationship with Draco worked, she cried herself to sleep, her heart filled with deep confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneak peek for next chapter:
> 
> _“This is bollocks,” she heard Potter mutter under his breath and she couldn’t find it inside herself to disagree. She glanced across the room to Draco and Granger, who both looked as if they were trying to kill with eyesight alone. Pansy smirked, at least she wasn’t the only one stuck with an uncooperative partner._


	3. Oh, Fuck This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first day of classes and Pansy Parkinson's mood could not be worse. Draco is a prick, Potter is insufferable, and apparently Dumbledore is using a damn potions classroom to practice his preachings of house unity. Whatever that means. She had more important things to worry about - like what in Merlin's beard is wrong with _her_?

**September 2nd, 1996 (morning)**

Pansy woke up sore, bitter, angry, and with a head full of pain. Still, she rubbed the crust and fatigue from her eyes and prepared herself for the day. There was no point in rushing for a pathetically short breakfast, and so she merely took her time as she carefully showered, brushed her hair, put on her school uniform, and prepared her things. For the first time in her life, Pansy was actually thankful for her hangover. The dull, throbbing pain at the base of her skull took her attention from the deep sense of agony that grew within her. A dry tongue, unending headache, and tired limbs were a small price to pay to ignore the heavy feeling wearing down her very bones.

It was with that heaviness that she dragged herself to her first class. Pansy nearly groaned out loud as she ventured through the dungeons. She had broken her own role last night. She got so wrapped up in the sex with Draco that she forgot that it meant nothing -- or it was supposed to meet _nothing_. But she, like the idiot little girl she had been years before, got carried away. So carried away that she had thought that maybe they could fall in love again, and she thought that ludicrous idea right up until the moment she cried herself to sleep.

But Pansy still put one foot in front of the other and made the heavy march towards her eight-thirty class. After suffering through a miserable Transfiguration, she put on a purposefully bored expression and steeled her nerves as she slowly walked to her next class, also a few minutes late, and set her eyes directly on Draco.

“It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, Amortentia will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room -- _ah_ , Miss Parkinson, is it?”

Slughorn’s blooming voice was loudly heard from the corridor and Pansy acknowledged her new professor with a silent nod even as she remained focused on Draco. She also ignored the snickers and the stares from her classmates, a common occurrence for the so-called Bitch of Slytherin and she has long since learned to let it all roll over her as well as deliver back a scathing insult with double the malice.

“Well yes, welcome, then.

“Now, what-- what was I saying? Ah yes, _Amortentia._ We will study it more depth later this semester. Now, when you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love--”

“Potter's captain of the Gryffindor team," he said as a preamble as she seated herself next to him. She held back an eye roll because after years of knowing each other Draco Malfoy was still convinced that she gave a fuck about Quidditch. Though she supposed it was her own fault; as a young girl she cheered herself into a frenzy each and every game he played in, and though her interest at the time was spurred by the fact that she fancied him to bits, he was still convinced she cared after hundreds of scoffs and eye-rolls.

“Really?” she drawled, reaching into her knapsack and pulling out her supplies. It was the first class and she doubted more than a single sheet of parchment and quill would be needed.

“Practically showed off his shiny badge to the entire Great Hall,” he whispered in reply as he shot daggers to the back his rival’s neck. “ _Bragging_ as if his mummy and daddy could hear him from beyond the -- wait. Where were _you_ during breakfast?”

“Oh, you noticed?” she hissed back. Leave it to Draco to completely overlook the importance of their first night back together after spending the entire summer apart.

 _Not that it actually mattered of course_ , she told herself.

“Don’t get pissy,” he said in a bored tone as he shared a glance with Theo, who in return shot a sympathetic one with her. “Maybe, I was too busy to notice--”

“Not busy enough for _Prince Potter_ , apparently.”

Pansy was seething, and the most angering part was she had no idea why. It wasn’t like Draco to ignore her, toss her aside, pretend as if her feelings were irrelevant; he was a callous bastard and she liked that about him because when he did act like he cared, his actions _mattered_ so much more. But she was frustrated now, and angry, and scornful and… and--

Fucking _miserable_ , that was it. She scowled, this time feeling grimace to the very core. So deeply, in fact, she almost worried that her face would freeze this way.

“What is wrong with--” but just as soon as Draco started, Slughorn seemingly had had enough.

“ _Now_ , you three back there-- that’s enough of that--”

Slughorn’s voice rang through the large dungeon classroom. While Pansy and Draco dutifully stared back silently with exaggeratedly rueful looks, Theo’s jaw dropped incredulously and Pansy could see Draco holding back a snicker. “Pay attention, now. Right, as the lovely Miss Granger so marvelously explained to us, yes, Felix Felicis otherwise known as liquid luck and it can make anyone who ingests it quite lucky indeed. We won't be learning to brew it in this class-- oh, no--" Slughorn shook his head at Ernie Macmillan, whose face visibly perked at the mention of the potion's properties. In fact, even Draco looked more interested than usual, causing Theo to give him a curious look. "No, Felix Felicis is desperately tricky to make and disastrous is done incorrectly. If brew properly, however, this funny little potion will cause most of your endeavors to end in your favor until the effects wear off..."

As is her want, Pansy’s focus on Sughorn’s lecture waxed and waned until she found herself mentally in an entirely different space. Incidentally, her mind brought her back to the night before and the time she spent with Draco. Though he was irrationally getting on her last nerve at the moment, she couldn’t shake the feeling of his body rocking against hers. Even through the haze that the whisky put her in, her body reacted as it always has when he was deep inside her; desperately and urgently, as if she were dying from a thirst only he could quench. Pansy’s toes curled in her low-heeled Mary Janes as she slightly though unconsciously twisted in her seat, trying to find the same sort of comfort on the wooden stool that she found straddling Draco last night. She hadn’t realized before how much her body needed his after being starved for an entire summer. Even as her thoughts brought her momentary happiness, she couldn’t ignore the clenching of her heart as she felt his heat next to her; so close, yet so far away, so many layers of clothing separating their--

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Draco swore beneath his breath as he collected his things and stood from his seat. Pansy looked around, her face clearly flushed and confused. “Come on, _get up_. He’ll call your name next.”

Pansy closed her mouth in an attempt to mask her confusion but she figured it out soon enough and then it was her turn to swear. Picking up her things, she purposefully ignored the wetness in her knickers and thinly veiled her frustration as she pushed herself from her seat. Of course the the new professor would get the bright idea splitting the class into groups. Beneath his idiotic speech about broadening horizons, Pansy could hear Dumbledore’s pathetic notions of House unity. Judging by the glaring coming from the Gryffindor corner of the room, she clearly wasn’t the only person who felt so.

“When you hear your name called, please calmly and orderly find your partner and remain seated next to them. Right then, here we are: Abbott and Patil, Nott and Weasley, Davis and Macmillan, Thomas and Boot, Potter and Parkinson, Bulstrode and Corner, Malfoy and Granger, Finnigan and Carrow--”

Slughorn could have said Blast-Ended Skrewts shit Golden Snitches for all anyone cared, but no one could hear as the classroom erupted into a roar of disbelief. Pansy couldn’t hear her own thought as her eyes scanned the room until she found Potter. For a moment they shared the same look of surprised look until he blinked first, and immediately shot her a hate-filled glare. She countered with a sneer and they held their looks of contempt until Slughorn regained control of his class and Granger tugged on his sleeve.

She couldn’t stand watching their interaction so Pansy turned back towards Draco, though she still felt Potter’s angry eyes on the back of her neck.

“How fitting. The golden Gryffindors paired with--” she stopped herself as she glanced from Theo to Draco, “whatever the fuck we are.”

“The horseman of the apocalypse,” Theo tried with a shrug. “Or at least you’d think so, the way they’re staring at us right now.

Pansy willed herself not to look back at Potter, she’d have to see his face soon enough after all. “There are four horseman,” she reminded him.

“Where’s Zabini when you need him?” he responded with a dry smirk and Pansy nearly laughed before Draco interrupted their banter.

“Who gives a fuck what they think?” he spat though he kept his voice low, and it was only then she noticed he was glaring just as intensely at Granger as Potter had been staring at her. “The orphan, the peasant, and the Mudblood. As if they have any right to an offended.”

“Tell us how you really feel, love,” Pansy crossed her arms over her chest and tried to seem bored but she shared his sentiments and Theo wasn’t without his prejudices as well. As children of some of the most fervent bigots, they were privy to some of the most egregious slander, they were also teenagers, and their hate wasn’t so much about blood or class as it was about petty nonsense that most of the time only mattered within the walls of the castle. It was more than rivalry, Pansy was aware, but it was hardly enough to start a war over.

“At least Granger is intelligent,” Theo replied with a sharp frown. “Weasley barely chops his food, I doubt he knows how to even prepare a potion--”

“ _Hello_ ,” she snapped her fingers in front of their faces. “Neither of you are paired with Harry fucking Potter so I won’t bloody hear it--”

“And that’s the roster!” Slughorn’s voice boomed again and brought the trio back to his attention. “Now, find your partners -- quickly, please, quietly -- and we can get starter. Mister Corner, over there with Miss Bulstrode-- no, no, no, Mister Thomas, you're paired with Mister Boot. Orderly, everyone, _orderly_!"

“Orderly my tired arse,” Draco grunted as he kicked his stool away and strode over to Granger without a second glance at his housemates.

She and Theo both shared a wary sigh before setting off towards their own reluctant partners. However, before she reached Potter, Pansy looked over her shoulder and gave Theo a wicked smirk. She raised her foot and sharply brought her heel down on the stone dungeon floor, resulting in a loud _tap_. She repeated again in quick succession, bringing one foot after another down loudly on the floor--

 _Clop, clop, clop_ , she mimicked a horse, and hopefully one that sounded apocalyptic.

She heard Theo laugh above the ruckus of the moving class, a rare sound that she was grateful to hear as she turned towards Potter. Though his glower caused the dread around her heart to tighten, Pansy gave him the widest grin she could muster and stuck out her hand.

“Hello, Harry Potter, prepare to meet your conquest.”

“You can save the dramatics, Parkinson,” Potter responded after a short moment of silence, both his glare and his voice full of resentful.

"You're just as fun as I imagined, unfortunately."

Pansy rolled her eyes and tossed her school bag onto the table as she slid into the stool next to him. Leave it to Potter to take the fun out of absolutely everything. While the classroom continued to settle down around them, Pansy allowed herself to carefully study Potter from the corner of her eye. His unruly hair was just as black as her own, however everything else about his appearance could not be more different. While she liked the employ either the trinity or eldredge knot for her green and grey house tie, Potter’s looked as if he simultaneously tripped and sneezed while lassoing his crimson and gold tie around his neck. While it looked like he had rolled out of bed and forgot to introduce his hair to a comb, Pansy’s daily application of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion ensured she had no stray strands to speak of. He had dirt beneath his nails, stains on his shirt cuffs, and a quill shoved behind his ear, while Pansy spent nearly a half an hour ensuring every aspect of her presentation was immaculate.

However, those details were nothing new -- it was obvious that his cleaning habits have remained unchanged since their first years. Instead, Pansy turned her attention to the part of Harry Potter had hadn’t bothered to notice before.

For example, he had grown. Potter was taller than the average seeker - though still shorter than Draco - while she was mercilessly short. His shoulders were significantly broader than she remembered from last year, and as he impatiently brushed his hair out of his eyes, she noticed a disturbingly angry red scar on his hand. She tucked that detail away as she tried to seem inconspicuous in her inspection. His bright green eyes were narrowed to tiny slits behind his ridiculous glasses and though whenever she noticed him before, he was typically grinning like a buffoon along with his friends, now he was scowling, his anger obviously showing on his face. It was a trait common for Gryffindors, but Pansy believed Potter may have it even worse; the complete inability to hide their emotions. They wore their hearts on their sleeves and their inner most feelings directly on their faces. It was nauseating, but it did make teasing them all the most enjoyable. Potter, though, was so much more obvious than his housemates. It was as if he cared so deeply about every since that that occurred in his life, he couldn't help but to so clearly wear his happiness or distress or frustration on his face. Throughout the years, Pansy noticed how he seemed so thoroughly unable to hold his tongue - even against a professor like Umbridge or Snape - because his sense of saintliness was so damn absolute. The word self-preservation may not even be in his dictionary. 

“You’re all sixth years now and I have complete faith in you students to overcome your differences during the course of the year,” Slughorn clapped his hands, causing his rotund center to bounce up and down to the class’ amusement.

For the second time in fifteen minutes, the old potions professor forced Pansy from her thoughts and made her realize how much she had missed while not paying attention. Unfortunately, it seemed that Potter hadn’t been taking notes either, and instead was continuing to angrily stare at the stone wall behind Slughorn’s head. Thankfully the professor was still lecturing the class on their year-long torture assignment.

“Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape agreed that this school year should be focused on partnered potioneering. Even the best Potions Masters often fail because they have become far too accustomed to the solitary life of a potioneer. From Sacharissa Tugwood to Vindictus Viridain himself, throughout the centuries potioneers have utilized equally skilled companions in order to master much more difficult potions.”

“This is bollocks,” she heard Potter mutter under his breath and she couldn’t find it inside her to disagree. She glanced across the room to Draco and Granger, who both looked as if they were trying to kill with eyesight alone. Pansy smirked, at least she wasn’t the only one stuck with an uncooperative partner.

“--page ten Advanced PotionMaking. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death--” a collective groan passed through the classroom, which Slughorn promptly ignored “--and as part of this year-long experiment, each class will end with a _prize_.”

The prospect of actually getting something for their pain was appealing to most of the students, enough so that the class finally settled down and even a handful of glares softened.

“Today it will be: liquid luck,” Slughorn held up the vial in his hand, tossed it in the air and a heart wrenching second, then caught it again and slipped it into his breast pocket. “In order to win my fabulous prize, you and your partner must work amicably and peacefully to produce the draught. Rough-housing and hate speech will result in a swift disqualification. Draught of Living Death is more complex than anything you've attempted before so while I don't expect it to be a perfect potion, I am looking forward to your proud attempts! The group that does best will win little Felix here. Off you go!"

Pansy pulled out her copy of Libatius Borage's _Advanced Potion-Making_ and turned to the formula for Draught of the Living Death. It was an ironic potion for Pansy’s mood as of late. She _felt_ like the living death, hangover and all. It hurt to even blink and she had to tense her entire body up to keep from staring at Draco every five seconds.

“I’ll get the ingredients,” she announced to no one in particular, earning only a grunt in response from Potter, who was intently thumbing through his own second-hand copy of the potions book.. She kept her eyes locked on the closet door ahead of her, trying to calm her heart with beat breaths as it beat wildly in her chest.

“For fuck’s sake,” she muttered, her eyes fluttering as she felt a slight wetness build. “Get a hold of yourself, Parkinson.”

Staying true to herself, she swore and elbowed her way through the crowd of students attempting to collect their own ingredients until she was in the center of the small supply closet. Thankfully with the little attention she did pay to the droning professor, she remembered most of what they needed: infusion of wormwood, asphodel, cloth brain, and Sopophorous bean's juice. Ignoring the angry responses around her, Pansy collected the ingredients in her arms, scowling and sneering to mask the occasional sniffles she took on her way back to the table she was sharing with Potter.

“There,” she said in a haughty tone. “You’re welcome.”

Potter didn’t respond, instead he kept his back entirely turned away from her as he played some silly finger game with Finnigan. Groaning internally, she let herself look at Draco and just in that moment Slughorn seemingly noticed him as well. Both he and Granger had their wands pointed directly at each other. With most of the class concerned with their own potions and problem partners, their disqualification and subsequent chiding nearly went unnoticed.

“ _Potter!_ ” she hissed, placing her hand on his forearm and digging her nails into his skin. He yelped in response, a sound Slughorn didn’t hear as he was now turning towards Theo and Weasley and the black, tar-like mess bubbling out of their cauldron. “We’ve got less than an hour now and I swear to all the gods--”

“Alright, that's enough?” he replied with clenched teeth. He tore his arm away from her and flipped open his ratty book. Pansy scoffed. He was practically a Weasley - all he was missing was the name.

Working silently next to each other, Pansy did her best to distract her mind from the heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach as she felt the hate emanate from Potter. She stirred the cauldron while he diced the sloth brain, she ground down the root of asphodel while he worked on the Sopophorous beans. If it were not for the deep frown on their faces, a passing observe may even assume they worked well together.

“The bean needs to be cut,” she finally spoke, though her eyes remained on the potion and she could only see Potter’s hands from the peripheral.

“You were doing so well being quiet, you know that?” he responded with a similar tone of animosity. “I’m actually quite disappointed.”

“Fuck yourself, Potter.”

At that point, Pansy no longer cared and she took whatever Potter handed her and tossed it into the cauldron along with the rest of the ingredients. When he told her to stir differently, she didn’t give it a second thought because even in their hateful silence they were better off than most of the class. Half of the class had already been disqualified and the other half was inept. If they did get the liquid luck, it would be out of pure coincidence  due to Dumbledore and Slughorn’s ludicrous ideas for house unity.

“The clear winner!” Slughorn’s voice came out of nowhere, though he was suddenly right in front of their table. Pansy tore her eyes away from the delicately pale pink potion in front of her and gave Potter a quizzical look, though he looked equally as surprised.

“Excellent, excellent, Harry! Good lord, it’s clear you’ve inherited your mother’s talent. Oh and, ahem, Miss Parkinson,” Slughorn added as an afterthought, his joules turning a similar pink to the potion in front of them. The class, for the first time completely silent, turned towards their table. Slughorn gripped Harry’s hand in his and shaked it violently while shoving the thin phial into hers. “Here you are, then, here you are -- one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well! Now class, let me explain to you what Harry and Miss Parkinson did so spectacularly here, all in the name of _house unity_!”

It happened so quickly -- silence falling throughout the class, Slughorn announcing their victory, the liquid luck being forcibly shoved into her hand -- that Pansy wanted nothing more than to slip her cloak on her and escape from the sudden attention. It this had happened last year, should would have proudly raised her chin and accepted her superiority over the rest of her classmates, but this year was _different_ and brave face or no, she couldn’t help the churning in her stomach and the intense feeling of despair growing inside her.

_Fuck this._

“Be sure to have a solid project idea for the next week. Remember, you have until Christmas to complete a high level potion that will count for a large portion of your marks this first semester! Children, children _wait!”_

Pansy wasn’t the only student who quickly packed her things and began making a beeline for the door. In addition to her flushing cheeks, she officially convinced herself that if she didn’t get away from every last idiot in the entire class, she would vomit where she stood. Without bothering to seek out Draco or Theo, Pansy made it to the corridor, so close to freedom, before a hand reached out and pulled her out of the exiting mob.

“Parkinson,” Potter’s voice was immediately closer than she expected it to be while his hand remained secured just above her elbow and the oncoming horde was sixth years continued to push behind her, causing her to pushing against Potter’s chest again and again.

“Unhand me,” she gasped, her tone equal parts surprised and angered. The confusing mixture of emotions inside her, coupled with the mind-splitting headache and a stomach that was threatening to empty itself right then and there, forced Pansy to lean against Potter more than she would have allowed herself too. The warmth from his body did provide her some comfort though, and for a moment she could swear even the blurriness that had been clouding her eyesight was cleared.

“I said it before, save the dramatics,” he said in a bored voice that reminded her eerily of her own. “That potion is supposed to be for _both_ of us.”

Merlin she had _forgotten_ \-- the thin phial of Felix Felicis was still in her unyielding grasp.

“It’s yours,” she exhaled, shoving the phial into his palm as if it had burned her. She didn’t let herself look at Potter’s face as she put on the bravest one of her own that she could muster. “Drink it, toss it, shove it up your arse, I don’t care.”

Before he could respond, Pansy pushed herself away and fought her way through the unending crowd of students scurrying to their next class. Elbows up and head down, it was only when the familiar dungeon hallways finally brought her to the girls lavatory that she let herself exhale. Pansy threw herself into the nearest stall and immediately vomited. She knew that some of it was hitting the walls of the stall and floor around the toilet, but immediately forgot about it in between dry heaves. Whether or not having an actual breakfast would have made this act less painful was unclear, however with each painful dry heave she had made her wish that she had some other than bile to spit into the toilet.

After realizing that nothing more was going to come out, Pansy shuddered and rapidly sucked in one desperate breath after another. While wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she used her foot to flush the toilet then winced as she leaned back against the bathroom stall and slowly slid down to the ground. Her mind felt dizzy and her stomach hurt even more now that it was violently emptied. What was driving her body to seemingly destroy itself minute by minute? Pansy hardly had the brain capacity to keep herself from slipping into unconsciousness, much less consider that question. Instead, she closed her eyes and counted her breaths until her heart calmed and her hyperventilations softened.

“ _Pansy?_ ”

Just as she slipped into a new found comfort, Pansy was shocked back into a panic. She scrambled to her feet as she wiped the tears from her cheeks and pointlessly checked her breath -- _horrendous --_ before unlocking the stall and stepping out.

“Nott?” she questioned, unable to hold back her surprise. It wasn’t as if she had been expecting Draco, it was just the mere fact of seeing Theo in the last place she suspected he would want to be. “This is the _girls’_ toilet.”

“Yes, I--” his face reddened, as if his moment of bravery left just as swiftly as it came. “I saw you with Potter, and well-- the girls, they mentioned you-- were you--”

She groaned and walked past Theo to one of the many sinks that lined the side of the bathroom. “I overdid it last night, that’s all.”

While she washed her hands and flashed water on her face, Pansy felt his eyes digging holes into the back of her neck. They were hardly ever alone, she realized, just the two of them without Draco or Blaise to act as the main attention seekers in the group. And he had been the one to look after her, not Draco nor Bulstrode, or any other Slytherins in their class.

“You’ll be late for your next class.”

It sounded like a question, though Pansy also heard a touch of concern in his voice and she forced herself to take another shaky breath before turning around. “I won’t be going. I just-- I’m not feeling well. I’m sure you understand. I can’t--”

“It’s a shite time to come back to school,” he interrupted in a low voice, taking a step towards her. She could see the sadness in his features and it did nothing to help her own mood. She understood what he had meant as well, partly an answer to her own troubles, and partly a confession on his own part.

“It is,” she replied simply, keeping her voice matter-of-fact though her own expression mirrored his. Pansy leaned against the marble sink behind her, crossing her arms over her chest as she gave up on her typical arrogant expression and simply remained blank. She had no reason to save face, it was Theo after all.

“You and Draco--”

“There is no _me and Draco_ \--”

“You know what I mean,” he waved away her objectively dismissively. “The house needs you two. You can’t let him--”

“Needs us?”

“Yes,” Theo stated simply then took another step towards her until he was standing directly in front of her, though luckily he wasn’t as tall as Draco she and wasn’t forced to look directly up to look him in the eye. He placed both hands on her shoulders before continuing, “You know what I mean.”

She did, and though she wanted to look away, she couldn’t. His hands seemed surprisingly warm on her shoulders and her leaned back slightly, if only to fight the urge to entirely lean into his arms to find some kind of comfort. “I don’t tell Draco what to do.”

“Just don’t lose him.”

“He isn’t mine to lose. He hasn’t been in a long time.”

“I don’t mean like that.”

“Like how then?” she questioned in her usual doubtful tone. “Like how you lost Carrow?”

Theo frowned and dropped his hands from her shoulders, and Pansy immediately regretted her indignation. Rather than reach out, however, she kept her hands securely on her hips.

“My reasons for leaving Flora are my own. Don’t feed into false equivalences, Pansy. Logical fallacies are not becoming of you.”

Pansy couldn’t help herself; she let out a hearty laugh and shook her head at Theo’s pragmatic manner of speaking. “At least tell me why you left her then. Draco and I split because we would have killed each other otherwise, so there must be a good reason for you and Flora.”

Theo remained silent for a moment, tilting his head to the side as he studies her face carefully in the curious way he frequently did before saying something particularly poignant.

“It felt empty. I gave the relationship an appropriate amount of time to flourish only to discover that there was nothing there and thus I thought it fit to move on.”

“And you think there’s something there for me and Draco?” she said slowly, thinking back to her mothers’ words as well as the night before.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I’m not the one fucking him.”

“ _Theo--_ ” before she could slap him or chide him, Theo took her hand in his and held it tight, a Slytherin smirk suddenly on his typically blank features.

“I’m teasing. Maybe there’s nothing between you two, or maybe it’s fate, whatever it is; you two mean something to the house. I mean don’t lose him to something… something that neither of you can control. Just because we’re Slytherin, doesn’t make us evil.”

“You’re a curious boy, Theodore Nott,” she whispered, lifting her hand that was wrapped in his and pressing them against her mouth, his mere presence so close to her loosening the knot in her chest. “ _Very_ curious.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

**September 6th, 1996 (late morning)**

Contrary to Nott's wishes, the rest of the week went no better than the first day of classes. While Draco grew more reserved, Pansy's attitude merely grew worse, seemingly in step with her random migraines and sensitive stomach. It didn't help that every other day she was forced to spend over an hour with Potter, The Boy Who Lived to Make Potions Unbearable. At his best, he would turn around and clown with Weasley, leaving Pansy to exchange eye-rolls with Nott. At his worst, Potter was moody and self-righteous, and determined to win every one of their conversations. He had all the worst traits of a Gryffindor with the egomania of a Slytherin - the worst part being that he had no idea how much of a Slytherin he was. At least her housemates recognized when their idiosyncrasies irritated others, and they relished in it. With her Potter acted damn near infallible.

"You're slicing like a fucking ponce," she commented once when she had realized that she had gotten too deep in her thoughts and there were a fresh grouping of tears building in her eyes. The potion they were making was going splendidly, but Potter seemed too proud of himself for her to leave it be.

"Your existence is a damn shame," he had answered back immediately.

"What?" her shrill voice had sounded more incredulous than she would have likely, but then was not a time for her to analyze what she perceived her many faults.

"So many unfortunate dead have left this world," Potter then turned to look at her, a look of mock sadness on his face, or more likely actually disdain towards hers, "and yet here you still stand."

 _Pretentious bastard_. She'd would have thought that someone who has had so many terrible things happen to him would be at least more pathetic. Just her luck, Harry Potter was perfectly aware of his unshakable acclaim within the walls of Hogwarts. He was more likable than her, apparently a better potioneer, and he knew where to pick, pick _pick_ at her when he wanted to.

He was basically as bad as Draco.

Thus, making a decision for her sanity's sake, Pansy slept on Friday and waited for her roommates to leave before getting out of bed. And it was better late than never, because her sour mood and generally intolerable health status made it nearly impossible for her to properly put away her things. Even Nott's worried looks and his own version of comforting comments weren't enough. She just needed-

She hadn't had a good feeling in a long time and she just-

It's been so fucking-

With Potter being insufferable and her mothers' daily letters and falling behind in her classes and- and-

Pushing all the thoughts of Draco, Potter, and her conversation with Theo from her mind, Pansy awoke after the girls in her dorm left for the day and began silently unloaded her trunk. Her books quickly lined on the handful of shelves open to her, placed alphabetically and by subject to make it easier for her in the mornings. Her school skirts, button ups and jumpers were folded and went directly into her drawers, while she carefully hung blazers, jackets, robes, and cloaks. Beside the heavy, dark clothing, Pansy hung her casual clothing; her best dresses, blouses, skirts and coats of various colors until her trunk was empty.

Through her meticulous organization, Pansy was able to ignore the thoughts and feelings that have been wearing her down all day. While she deliberately and gingerly folded her ties and brought her of socks together in matching pairs, she mentally dictated her movements as a way to keep away from such distractions, to keep her confusion at bay, to fight her deep misery.

“Blue, purple, green, clear,” she muttered to herself as she arranged her phials of potions on her vanity.

She lined up phials and bottles by type and size, checking to make sure her beauty potions were all labeled and beside each other; Tolipan Blemish Blitzer beside the ten-second pimple vanisher, which was next to the blackhead potion her mother gave her before she left. Her invigoration draught, which she drank to start her day, was in a tinted green phial and beside her Draught of Peace, which was pale grey potion she used to soothe her anxiety and fall asleep in the evenings. Now, however, she picked up the small phial of peach-colored Pepperup Potion and took a healthy gulp.

“Lovely,” she said in a sing-song voice before turning on her heel to organize her jewelry next.

“Got enough potions there?”

“Fucking _Merlin_ , Zabini,” Pansy hissed after nearly leaping from her bones. “How long have you been standing there.”

“Long enough.”

Blaise pushed himself away from the doorframe he had been leaning against and slowly stalked across the room enough he reached the foot of her bed.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

He mimicked her snobbish expression, with crossed arms and an arched eyebrow and all.

Pansy dropped her hands by her side and took a seat on her edge of her four-poster bed with a sigh. “I’m not feeling well. And I have plenty to keep me busy here anyway, as if it’s any of your business.”

Blaise shrugged, “I never said what you got up to was any of my business.”

“Then what are you doing here? Isn’t there a hole somewhere you should be sticking your--”

“I spoke to Theo.”

“Fucking hells,” Pansy muttered and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Theo thinks himself to be quite the little plotter these days. _Nothing_ is wrong. He’s working himself into a frenzy over--”

“You vomited on the first day of classes and now you’re skipping an entire day of classes,” Blaise reminded her. “Theo walked in on you, and now he’s under the assumption you’re _his_ business--”

“I’m _not--_ ”

“And he’s worried,” Blaise spoke over her forcibly, his lackadaisical suddenly hardened. “And maybe I am too.”

“Worried?” she scoffed, refusing to let the pang in her heart to affect her exterior. She was upset that Theo had caught her in the first place, enraged that he told Blaise, and miserable in general, to top it all off. “Nott’s a browbeating killjoy who does nothing but complain and--”

“You’re deflecting.”

“--knowing nothing about no one--”

“Missing the point.”

“--going around _pretending_ to be some kind of damned--”

“He saw you were crying.”

“So?” she shot back indignantly. “I’m just a stupid little girl, and stupid little girls cry all the time.”

“Pansy Parkinson is many things,” Blaise mused aloud, “but _stupid_ is not one of them.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then why can’t I understand why notorious Blaise Zabini is here flattering me instead of some seventh years’ tight arsehole?”

 _That_ made him laugh, and Pansy had to bite her own lip to hold back a chuckle of her own. Slytherins, though loyal to their house they may be, were not known for their unadulterated acts of concern and kindness.

“As much as I would love to see what Pucey’s getting up to at the moment, the fact remains. Vomiting and crying on the first day of classes?” he questioned again, making the tiny smirk die on Pansy’s lips. “If you don’t pull yourself together people will begin to question your sanity.”

 _I’m already beginning to question my own sanity_ , she thought with an internal wince. It was no easy thing to admit, but the hangover was one thing. Being unable to control her emotions around Potter of all people? She should be institutionalized.

“It’s just a tough first day,” she answered calmly, forcibly keeping her voice in chest as to not sound too whiny.

“I hope that’s all it is. We can’t have you losing your mind and stomach every other minute, while also keeping Draco from--”

“Oh this is all about Draco, is it?!”

She didn’t mean to screech, and shut her mouth just as quickly as it opened it. With a voice bordering on shrill like hers, even raising her voice slightly made a sound that was painful to most ears. Judging by Blaise’s wince, she went above and beyond the line right then.

“It’s about both of you--”

“We’re not dating any--”

“I know! Merlin,” losing his calm composure for a moment, Blaise glared at her before softening his expression. “You don’t have to be dating him to have an affect on him. You both rely on each other, that’s all. Teddy and I just want to see you both happy and healthy and--”

“Save it, Zabini, I get it,” Pansy scowled as he clapped his hands with a triumphant look on his face.

“Great. Now pull yourself together and meet me in the common room in five minutes. We can get a quick lunch and you can go on your way to your afternoon classes.”

Pansy muttered something unintelligible under her breath, which Blaise chose to ignore as he headed out of her dorm room. Just as she reached for her brush to _pull herself together_ , as he ordered, a thought suddenly entered her mind.

“Wait!”

He turned around expectantly, only to see Pansy’s look of sheer confusion.

“How the hell did you get up here? Draco’s been trying at it for years.”

The question earned her yet another mysterious smirk from her old friend. “Magic, love. _Magic_.”

There was no point in pressing when Blaise was being purposefully cryptic so Pansy merely gave him a sarcastic laugh in response as he left her room. It was best that she didn’t know, she decided afterwards. She never knew when Draco was using Legilimency and he was the sort of prick who would do so without saying. There was no telling what Draco Malfoy would do with the power to enter the girls’ dormitory with no repercussions.

As soon as she heard Blaise descend the stairs outside her door, Pansy stripped out of her clothes and prepared a fresh uniform for the rest of the day. While Blaise was talking, she noticed a few distasteful stains on her blouse and she could only imagine how the entire outfit _smelled_ after her little detour in the bathroom a few hours ago. Regardless, she dressed identically so she wouldn’t bring suspicion to herself for suddenly wearing different clothes. Standing in front of her full length mirror, Pansy brushed her hair and reapplied her eyeshadow and mascara, which had virtually disappeared after her short cry session in the toilets. Turning towards her rows and rows of various potions, she first drank her regular contraceptive potion, then a sip of invigoration draught, and lastly the blackhead potion her mother recommended.

She inspected her reflection once more, smoothing her pleated skirt with her palms and running her hands through her hair before she was more satisfied than she had been before, though there was still a sharp frown on her face. If she wanted to, she could still wear the uniform from her third year. Though she waited and prayed and hoped for her body to go through the familiar puberty she had seen all her classmates go through, it never came for her.

Fuck, even Millicent Bulstrode had tits, at least.

Instead, Pansy’s breast remained barely developed and just perky as they had been as a young teenager, her might as well be nonexistent, and her arse was heart-shaped by all standards but useless without being paired with a more womanly figure. Her mother, annoyingly enough, insisted she was still young and could be a late bloomer, but Pansy knew better. Though Iris has worn heavy, black gowns and robes since her husband died, Pansy knew she wasn’t hiding anything impressive underneath them.

And her daughter inherited that curse; a petite body, short legs, and a childishly button nose that has looked the same since the day she was born. There was no point in painfully staring at the aspects of herself that she could never change, but Pansy did it frequently enough that she has memorized the exact number of freckles on her shoulders and chests, the curve of her belly button, and every individual crease in her knobbly knees.

With a tired sigh, Pansy steadied her iron-hard expression and went to meet Blaise downstairs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneak peek for the next chapter:
> 
>  
> 
> _Potter seemed curious, if not the tiniest bit confusion, but she couldn’t place the glint in his eyes and as she went back to staring at the back of Draco’s head, she realized she didn’t really care._  
>  “Draco--”  
> Before she could continue, she felt his hand encircle around her wrist and in seconds she was pulled up the same staircase she and Theo had just ventured down. Struggling to keep up with Draco’s significantly longer legs, Pansy briefly wondered what she had gotten herself into.


	4. Another Day, Another Shag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unbeknownst to her friends, Pansy finds a fairly simple way to cure her sour mood. It wasn't difficult to guess, a good shag could put anyone into a better mood. Unfortunately, like usual, Potter ruins everything.

**September 8th, 1996 (evening)**

The weekend came and went without another moment alone with Draco, much less heard a word from him. Each day, Pansy woke up, bathed, brushed her hair, took her potions, and went through the motions of the day, all without hearing a word from Draco Malfoy. And each day, she spent every waking moment with a heaviness in her heart that brought her to tears almost every five minutes.

And Merlin, she _hated_ it. Not Draco’s avoiding any conversation with her, that was far from unusual and while it never lasted long, but she had never truly cared. But now, one part of her did care, _intensely and painfully_ , a part of her that cared about the physical distance between her and Draco.

And it was _killing_ her. And the worst part was she had no idea why.

More than once, Pansy’s hand shot over her mouth in the middle of her attempting to busy herself, and she quickly excused herself to use the lavatory, only to dash out before hearing a response. Once she was within the solitary confines of the bathroom stalls, she would wail and cry and vomit, then slapped herself across the face to steel her nerves long enough to make it through the rest of the day. It was a terribly miserable existence and one that Pansy certainly did not choose. In fact, she didn’t know if she was pining over Draco or hated him, one thing was clear, however--

Theo wasn’t pleased.

“I  can smell your bloody breath from here,” he muttered as she reappeared next to him after a short detour to the bathroom. The laughter and loud conversations in the crowded corridor made it difficult to hear her companion, but she could read by the expression on his face and often times that was enough.

“If you’re not going to say anything new, don’t bother saying anything at all,” she said, her voice ironically singsong in response.

“Pansy,” Theo seemed as if he wanted to continue, but instead he merely said her name and let it hang in the air between them as they descended the staircase leading towards the Great Hall. She could feel his reluctance to lecture her again all throughout their planned homework session, and honestly she was glad he had held his tongue until now.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to worry about me?” she said after a missed beat, attempting to sound kind.

“I know it’s odd for our lot to admit this,” he started slowly, keeping his voice low as he took Pansy by the elbow and pulled her out of the crowd. “But I’d actually rather not see you die this year. We’re barely two weeks into the semester and you look like you’re dying of the plague--”

“Wow, _thanks_ ,” she spat, yanking her elbow away from him and crossing her arms over her chest. She had thought that a touch of makeup and a heavier dose of her invigoration potion would fight off the worst of it, but apparently not.

“ _Meanwhile_ ,” he continued as if he wasn’t interrupted, “Malfoy looks like the walking dead. What’s going on? I thought I told you--”

“To suck his cock and make him happy?” she shot back again, her face reddening at the accusation in his voice.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What is it then? You want me to make sure he’s alright and happy and _satisfied_ \--”

“I’m worried about you too, Parkinson, whether or not you care to believe it.”

By now, most of the crowd that had blocked the entrance to the Great Hall had dissipated, taking the loud voices and commotion with them. Now, their voices rang throughout the hallway and even Theo’s normally low and quiet tone carried throughout the corridor. Pansy noticed his face twitch and frown as he made a concerted effort to ensure their conversation remained private.

“I don’t mean for you to continue having sex with Malfoy if you don’t want to,” he said, his face flushing as he spoke. It surprised Pansy to know that the notoriously emotionless Theodore Nott was capable of embarrassment.

“Then what _do_ you mean, Nott?” Pansy sighed with exasperation and dropped her hands to sides. “I’m tired of your vague bloody riddles and-”

“I don’t want to lose either of you,” he cut in. “You and Malfoy aren’t together anymore, but let’s me honest, you practically the only thing that keeps him _human_ some days. That’s all. If Zabini and I, Slytherins to the core, are taking the time to voice worries over a pair of friendships, then I’d urge you to heed our concerns.”

She pressed her lips together to keep from smirking. Though Theo spoke very little, whenever he did he sounded like a Ministry official from the late nineteenth century. However, instead of smirking, Pansy knew, her friend needed some assurances.

“Theo,” she laid her hand on his forearm and took a step closer to him, feeling a intimate magnetism draw her closer to him suddenly, “I’ll be okay.”

She muttered those words as she looked at her hand on him until she finally looked up again and into his eyes. Instead of his typically blank stare, she noticed a confused frown. Rather than comment on it, she felt his hand suddenly heavy on her shoulder. Though the was plenty of space around them in the empty corridor, they were standing closer to each other than they had been before.

“You don’t have to be alone,” he responded cryptically, though she wasn’t surprised. Theo had never been the type of actually say something that was meant to be understood.

Before she could answer him, a sharp exclamation came from behind him.

“Oi! You two,” Zabini’s voice rang out loudly through the corridor, “I was just about about to trek to the dungeons to find you. Come on, then.”

Rather than jump from her skin like Pansy felt like doing, she merely looked over her shoulder and dropped her hand from Theo’s arm. He mirrored her motions, and in seconds it seemed as if nothing has occurred other than a pleasant conversation.

The pair said nothing as they followed an impatient Blaise back into the Great Hall. Pansy purposefully walked ahead of Theo as she attempted to blink away what were by now very familiar tears building in her eyes. Just when she felt a barrier fall down between she and Theo, the ever present heaviness returned to her heart and she remembered how pitiful her life as felt as of late. As they entered the Great Hall, Pansy willed away the blurriness in her eyes just as her gaze set upon none other than Draco Malfoy. It was his first lunch at the table all week, yet for some reason it seemed as life nothing had changed.

“Where have you been?” Draco ask gruffly as she elbowed Goyle aside (no easy feat) to sit directly next to him. Even acknowledging her was more of a reception than Pansy had expected. And truth be told, Theo was right. He looked as if he had gone the past week of avoiding her -- purposefully or no -- without sleep. Knowing that Draco wasn’t out whoring his way throughout the castle with another witch brought Pansy twisted sort of pleasure that she hadn’t felt in years. She quickly pushed that thought away and cleared her throat.

“I wasn’t hungry,” she said simply, though her stomach growled loudly just as if said it, as if for an ironic effect. Across from them, Blaise was busying himself again, but Daphne and Theo gave her a look she couldn’t place. “But I am now.”

Beneath the table, Pansy laid a simple hand on Draco’s upper thigh. Though he had been cutting a piece of chicken breast and raising it to his mouth in that moment, he paused and gave her a curious look. A beat passed before he did another and Pansy’s heart couldn’t have pounded harder if she tried.

“Right,” he drawled, his face unchanging as he laid his fork and knife down. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of being rebuffed again, but instead Draco reached below the table bench and pulled up his school bag. “See you lot later.”

She didn’t think twice as she secured the strap of her school bag over her shoulder and followed Draco out of the Great Hall. Though she didn’t mean to, Pansy glanced over her shoulder and caught Theo continuing to stare at her as she attempted to stroll away as casually as possible.

More surprising, however, was when she caught Potter’s eyes just as she turned her head to fix her gaze straight forward again. It was a split second, and in all honesty she couldn’t tell if he was looking at her or at Draco, but whatever it was they locked eyes for a split second before the connection was lost. Potter seemed curious, if not the tiniest bit confused, but she couldn’t place the glint in his eyes and as she went back to staring at the back of Draco’s head, she realized she didn’t really care.

“Draco--”

Before she could continue, she felt his hand encircle around her wrist and in seconds she was pulled up the same staircase she and Theo had just ventured down. Struggling to keep up with Draco’s significantly longer legs, Pansy briefly wondered what she had gotten herself into. Though the second Draco acknowledged her and accepted her advanced she felt an immediate sense of relief, she wasn’t sure if _this_ was what she wanted.

It was too late to think things over, however, as the moment they reached the first landing, he took a sharp right and they were in an empty classroom before she had a chance to open her mouth again.

Draco wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her until she was forced onto the tips of her toes to meet his lips. Blindly, they fumbled into the classroom with their hands eagerly tearing away at the others’ possessions and clothing. He didn’t waste time to shove her robe down her shoulders and pull her blouse from it’s perfectly tucked position in her skirt. Though her body felt warm pressed against his, Pansy couldn’t help the tiny gasp that separated her lips from his as the castle air touched her skin.

“Cold?” he teased, and Pansy swatted his arm as she kept the space between their lips when he tried to kiss her again.

“Feeling talkative now, are we?” she said breathlessly, a weak smirk on her face as she began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Don’t tell me you hurting.”

Pansy laughed off his joking assertion while peppering light kisses on his pale chest, though if she weren’t so enthralled in the moment she might have cried again -- or, better yet, walked away. Theo had noticed her misery throughout the week, and meanwhile Draco was none the wiser. He has always been a prick but this was a new level she was unaccustomed to.

“I kept myself busy,” she responded with a mischievous smirk as she laid a hand over his growing erection. Draco hissed when she started to massage him from outside of his trousers and her smirk sharpened when she noted the effect the was having on him.

“Lucky you,” he exhaled. Draco placed his hands on either side of her face and forcibly tilted her head upwards, and his lips met hers a moment later. Pansy again gasped against him, this time from the instant response her body had. She desperately tried to rub herself against him, to him some kind of friction for her aching body.

“ _Pansy_ ,” he grunted, pulling away from her. She heard him muttering something about _time_ and before she could ask what he meant, his hands were on her hips and her entire body was turned around in one quick motion.

Biting back a yelp, Pansy braced herself with flat palms against the blacktopped desk in front of her. He flipped her skirt upward and kneaded and groped her arse as he readied himself. She couldn’t last another moment without glancing over her shoulder and she wasn’t disappointed; Draco was more disheveled than she had ever seen him and his face was a brilliant shade of red, a stark contrast from how pale he looked in the Great Hall. A soft moan left her lips as his trousers fell to the ground and he urgently shoved her panties down to her knees.

“Pl- _please_ ,” she begged, watching him with lustful eyes. Draco stroked himself twice more before slamming into her wet pussy.

“Oh _gods._ ”

His weak voice sounded like music to her ears. Pansy’s body moved backwards against him, drawing another muffled groan from him and within seconds they found a rhythm that satisfied them both. While Draco’s fingers dug into and steadied her hips, Pansy went to the tips of her toes to meet him in the thrust, his cock hitting her deeper and deeper with each movement. Minutes in she already felt herself reaching the edge, and even the weight on her chest felt elevated, as if all she needed was a good shag to get over her feelings of anxiety and inadequacy.

As if all she needed was for Draco to pound into her again and again--

“Harder,” she panted, her hands gripping the side of the table. “G- _gods_ , harder! Please!”

Draco didn’t wait another moment to comply. He reached down and took up one of her legs by the crook of her knee and lifted it until her knee rest on the table with the rest of her body. In the new position, she felt herself open up and accept even more of Draco’s cock into her tight cunt. Pansy had to throw her hand against her mouth to keep from shouting out. It was enough that with each thrust the table scratched loudly against the floor; they didn’t meet her screams to further give away their position.

It didn’t matter, however. The deeper and more intense feeling that nearly caused Pansy to shout out her lovers’ name also made Draco’s breath ragged and his thrusts harder but erratic. The moment she felt his fingers dig deeper into her hip, verging on painful, she knew he wasn’t far from his orgasm.

And she was right. Seconds later, Draco’s hips bucked forward, pushing the table Pansy harder into the table, and with another shudder he was spent. She could hear the wisps of her name on his lips as he also desperately tried to remain quiet, but it was hard for both of them.

He caught his breath for another minute before stepping backwards and slipping out of her. Not wanting to remain in such a vulgar position for too long, Pansy moved quickly after him. Though her knees weak and barely held her up after such a quick but rough shag, she managed to pull her knickers back up and tuck her blouse back into her skirt before Draco even finished buckling his belt.

“Damn, Parkinson,” he muttered, his breathing still hard. Pansy laughed under her breath as she made a half-arsed attempt to smooth her hair down and ensure that her clothes weren’t too wrinkled. She felt comfortable enough to smile towards him, at least, after days of feeling miserable and lonely. With as much earnestness as she could muster, she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his jawline.

“Looks like I wasn't the only one who needed that."

Draco snorted but said nothing else as he undid and began redoing his tie to make sure it was impeccable. She could almost roll her eyes as she gathered her things and headed towards the door. Glancing over her shoulder once before before she left him, Pansy shot him another wink then ducked out.

\-----------------------

**September 9th, 1996**

Pansy wasn’t sure how she looked to the outside world, but internally she felt as if she had just pranced through the castle. She felt a sense of newness in her very soul, like perhaps this year wouldn’t go to the dogs after all. Even when she plopped into her seat beside Potter towards the back of the classroom, she didn’t feel the same sense of despair that has been plaguing her for the past days weeks. She felt as if, for once, everything would be alright. 

Potter turned to her and mumbled something in his typical grating manner.

She merely smiled back. She may have even nodded, though her thoughts were entirely on Draco and the way he held her down, fucked her until she peaked, thrusting and jerking back and forth in a way that—

“ _Parkinson_!”

Potter’s face came into focus suddenly, his angry, furrowed eyebrows and reddening face seemingly calling her attention out of nowhere. In a flash, the slightly dazed smile dropped from her features and she felt the dark attitude that had been creeping over her entire body begin to seep back. And in her annoyance, Pansy found clarity. For over a day, she had been walking around as if she was on cloud nine: she practically floated into the classroom and felt so mind-numbingly giddy that she didn’t even notice that classroom around her or Potter’s sourness beside her. She had _smiled_ at the prick as she sat down. It seemed almost as if her mind was awash with feel-good insects that distracted her from reality, from Potter’s continued attitude, from the hush that had fallen over the class when she walked in, from _everything_. And she just hadn’t noticed. The only thing she could think about was Draco, and his body against hers, him entering her over and over again. The way he-

“There’s something wrong with me,” she muttered, interrupting her own internal ramblings.

“I know,” Harry replied, his tone softer but still dark.

Before she had a chance to response, Slughorn waddled to the front of the room and clapped his hands together in a kind of excitement that he shared alone. Pansy clenched her fist under her desk and took in a shaky breath. Of course she enjoyed her quick session with Draco, it was an enjoyable stress reliever, not to mention it reconnected them after a dry week, but she hadn’t felt so dependent on him since she was a young teenager. Now, it felt as if he had saved her from falling into depression.

Worst of all, the short exchange with Potter didn’t go unnoticed by Theo, and judging by the look on his face, whatever he was thinking would have to be something that she contends with later.

“Hello, hello, students! I have a very exciting task for us today. The very lovely Madam Poppy Pomfrey has requested our assistance. She is pitifully low on her Essence of Dittany supply and would greatly appreciate the help of N.E.W.T level students. Now, I understand this isn’t a very difficult potion,  and as sixth years you won’t need much guidance, but this class will still apply to our little competition!

"Rather than the pair that creates the _best_ potion, the winners will be determined by the quantity of potions made! That’s right; working by working together you and your partner will need to create as much Essence of Dittany as possible.  In fact, I implore you to work into the night for since Essence of Dittany needs to periodically sit and be stirred and this process typically works best under moonlight.”

As improbable as it seemed, Potter’s mood seemed to get worse as Slughorn explained their next project. He grumbled and shifted in his seat, visibly and audibly expressing his displeasure. Potter was so laughably bad at masking his emotions (probably after years of being lauded for being passionate and 'real') that Pansy nearly assumed he was actually trying to get Slughorns attention. Whether or not it was a conscious attempt, Slughorn began walking down the rows of desks towards the back of the classroom, then paused to clap a hand on Potter’s shoulder. Apparently even former Slytherins can have for the Orphan Boy Wonder.

As he continued to walk towards the back of the class, his voice boomed around room. The prize would be an automatic 15 points towards the next exam as well as Madame Promfrey’s long-lasting gratitude. His bombastry came off as so absurd that Pansy could even hear Draco scoffing and scowling from across the room, though she couldn’t bring herself to attempt to catch his gaze and share an eye roll.

 _I was just happy to get laid_ , she told herself, shaking her head as her eyebrows continued to wrinkle in confusion over her behavior. _So much pent up energy—I needed a release_.

“Parkinson.”

This time Potter’s voice sounded calm, though it did have an edge to it, as if he didn’t want to call attention to the reach of the class again but anything even resembling a kind word towards her would be a step too far.

“Yes, I was listening,” she bit back, her usually callous attitude falling back into place. “We have to find time to do this before Wednesday. I don't like this any more than you do, but if we work overnight then-"

“I’ve got Quidditch practice at 6, I need to start working on assembling the team. Then homework afterwards. I don't want to spend my time _stirring_ with you—“

“I have shit to get done, too, Potter. But 15 points off of an exam seems to me like a spectacular offer. After a crap first week, I’d like to actually attempt to get something out of this damned class. I know how much your precious Captain’s pin means to you,” she paused to dramatically roll her eyes, “but I’m sure whatever homework you have is either already late or you’re not really going to do it anyway. So I’ll give you two hours to fly around, _or whatever_ , because I’m not doing shit alone.”

Potter scowled, and Pansy immediately knew that she had won the argument. She could also tell that he was the type to take advantage of any opportunity to study less for an exam.

“You’re more like Hermione than you know,” Potter responded ruefully, a tone that Pansy thought said more about his friendship with Granger than it did about his hatred towards her. The pair frequently shared looks across the room but Pansy saw nothing remotely romantic in their interactions. In fact, regardless of how many students (boys and girls alike) stare wistfully at him, Potter seemed completely oblivious. That in itself was a bit charming – the exact opposite of Draco, as well; someone who not only noticed everything lustful look aimed in his general direction, but also willed for it. It was one of the few differences in personalities Pansy had noticed between the two boys, though neither would ever admit to how similar they are to each other. Their stubbornness, sense of calling for a high purpose, hair trigger rage, and not to mention the Quidditch obsession; you could think they were practically brothers.

“Except with better hair and nicer tits,” Pansy replied a beat too late. She had gotten too wrapped up in her own thoughts and her hesitation allowed Potter the opportunity to turn around and begin packing up his things.

Though thankfully, like any boy, the word ‘tits’ did catch his attention and he glanced over his shoulders to give her a once-over. She could almost smell the contempt off of him. It was almost ironic how the boy who apparently saved the wizarding world was able to dislike so many of the witches and wizards in it.

Or maybe it was just the students in Slytherin who were content with making his seven years at Hogwarts miserable. Who knows.

“We both know that puberty skipped you over, Parkinson,” he said flatly. “Nine-year-old boys have more tits than you.”

Pansy frowned and resisted the urge to stick out her tongue at him, a move that would have earned a heartfelt laugh from someone like Blaise but would certainly cause her to be taunted by Potter.

“Jealousy is extremely unbecoming of you, Potter,” Pansy said after a curt _harrumph_. “Clearly you’re yearning for what you can’t have so I suggest you get over it and focus on the task at hand.”

“Malfoy’s used goods you mean?” he snorted, “No thanks.”

That one hurt, though Pansy pushed past the pang in her chest and sneered to hid her emotional wound. For a generally unaware and overemotional Gryffindor, sometimes Potter really did know exactly where to stick the knife.

“You bring up Malfoy so often, I think you’d rather shag him than me,” Pansy feigned a look of heartbreak by putting her intertwined fingers over chest. “Though I wouldn’t blame you. He’s quite the lay.”

She was glad when that comment earned her a sneer back from Potter, breaking up his almost Slytherin-like pretentious grin.

"We can meet in the dungeons tomorrow,” he avoided her comment with a slight cringe as he threw his school bag over his shoulder.

Pansy smiled to herself as she elbowed past him and begin following the pack of dispersing students. She would have to wait to irritate Potter tomorrow, and thankfully with him separated from his friends, it would be easier to keep his attention on the assignment for the evening, which she desperately needed so they could make as much of this potion as possible and win the challenge. Considering the emotionally dubious headspace she’s been in lately, Pansy needed any boost she could take advantage of.

"It's going to be a long night, Golden Boy," she added cheerfully, looking over her shoulder and shooting Potter a devilish grin. With a short glance over around the room, she realized a least she and Potter won't be the only two battling personalities. She noted Granger scolding Draco, who was slowly but clearly reaching for his wand and Nott was covered in a mysterious green slime with an unabashed Weasley pointing and laughing beside him.

"I hope you're ready," she finished with a wink as she glanced back at Potter, whose red face told her he also noticed his friends troubles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneak peek for the next chapter:
> 
>  
> 
> _Clearly her throat, Pansy quietly excused herself as she moved around the table. When she reached Potter on the other side, she squeezed between him and the able, her bum shimmying across his front, and she felt Potter freeze against her. The room was just small enough to make it difficult for him to move out of the way but he didn't even make an attempt._


	5. Fourth Time's the Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One night with Potter. What could possibly go wrong? At least Pansy finally gets a chance to showcase what she knows best. Boys are boys are boys.

**September 10th, 1996 (evening)**

They met the following night in the dungeons and silently collected their materials before setting off to find a private room with ample moonlight. During their entirely silent walk to the room, Pansy let herself think freely about Potter and the upcoming night-long project ahead of them. Most of what she thought of him was shaped by Draco and his petty vendettas and she assumed the same was true vice-versa. Appearing by Draco's side -- and sometimes hanging off of his arm -- for so many years likely cemented an image of her in Potters' imagination. Then again, even without Draco's help, she hadn't exactly been the easiest pre-teen to deal with.

And that attitude may or may not have persisted into her late adolescence as well.

Still, it wasn't as if the so-called Golden Trio were angels to wrestle with. Biases existed on both sides, Pansy decided a long time ago. The thought of a Malfoy and a Weasley holding hands and singing peacefully was frankly beyond unimaginable.

And for her own accord, Pansy was well aware that both mudbloods and purebloods had their faults, and most people are generally pricks regardless of blood.

"Are you sure we have the ingredients we need?"

Potters' voice dragged her from her thoughts, which was likely for the best. For the past month, it seemed no matter what she was thinking about, all lines were drawn back to Draco and ultimately she wouldn't be able to ignore the pangs in her chest and the desperate feeling in her bones. It was all pathetic, really; even thinking about not thinking about him made her hurt.

"It's essence of dittany," she replied, her voice suddenly breathless -- a change that even Potter seemed to have noticed.

"There's only three ingredients," she explained after clearing her throat, "If you start preparing the cauldrons, I'll grab start dicing. You just have to add water and start heating--"

"Yes, I've taken a potions class before," he interrupted her impatiently in a tone that sounded uncharacteristically icy sharp. He could be mean, in words and in tone, and cruel even though the thought seemed unbefitting for him.

"Congratulations," she bit back sarcastically, though not as strongly as she would have wished. Pansy tutted her tongue loudly and said over her shoulder, "You could have fooled me."

While Pansy began organizing the dittany, the required oil extracts, copper, and pickled shrake spines on the table in front of them, she forced herself to ignore Potter's foul mood. While Pansy had fully expected to brag about stealing some of the rare dittany and oils from some idiot Hufflepuffs, now she didn't even bother. Instead of making him delightfully annoyed, she would only cause another argument and that was something that she was not up for.

"So I've got enough for us for a bit if we get two cauldrons going on at once," she said without preamble as she unloaded her full arms onto the table an purposefully ignored Potter's stare.

"Great."

"Alright."

"Let just--"

"Right, get started."

And with that awkwardness out of the way, the pair fell silent and got to work slicing and dicing the ingredients in front of them. It was easy for Pansy to get lost in her movements now, her mind void of all thought -- almost like a meditative state. She had just enough focus to avoid accidentally cutting off a digit, but that was it.

"That shrake needs to be diced smaller."

"Fuck off," she replied simply and instinctively.

"Fine," he snapped, then paused for a moment, his face visibly looking as if he was trying to throw a similar insult at her, " _Minger_."

Pansy looked up at Potter fuming and tilted her head to the side curiously. "You don't insult many women," she noted, "Do you?"

"I'd hardly call you a woman, Parkinson," he laughed.

Pansy made a sound that crossed between a snort and a humph. Who needed his approval anyway?

But then again...

It has been a while since she had fucked with someone who was as testy and emotive as Potter. After only a week working side by side, she knew more or less how to get him to tick.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, that was a result of working over two simmering cauldrons, then she made a show of sighing, taking off her cardigan, and rolling up her sleeves. Potter, who lived his life in a constant state of dishevelment, had long since abandoned his tie and shoved his sleeves up. He barely noticed her small actions and continued to to ignore her as she discreetly rolled up her skirt slightly, until the hem was just below her bum.

Clearly her throat, Pansy quietly excused herself as she moved around the table. When she reached Potter on the other side, she squeezed between him and the able, her bum shimmying across his front, and she felt Potter freeze against her. The room was just small enough to make it difficult for him to move out of the way but he didn't even make an attempt.

"Don't mind me," she muttered brightly as she reached for a dulled knife for crushing. "Pardon--" she said as she repeated the action, albeit just slightly slower, wiggling against him.

Potter, for his part, said nothing but Pansy knew he wasn't stupid. It was a game of chicken now, and Gryffindor's Golden Boy has never been the losing type.

When she was back on her side of the table, Pansy sighed dramatically again and Potter kept his eyes steeled on the potent ion in front of him, just watching it as it bubbled into essence of dittany.

Now, that was no good.

"Damn, where did I put those notes?" she wondered aloud in a stage-whisper, which was enough to cause Potters' eyes to flick upward briefly at the exact moment Pansy bent down and shifted through her bag.

With her shortened skirt and bum in the air, Pansy knew at least the bottom of her behind was a perfectly visible. She stayed in the position for a moment, pretending to look through her bag, then snapped back into an up-right position with a random parchment in her hand.

"Ah! There we are!" she exclaimed, feigning excitement. When she glanced back at Potter, he was looking down again though his face was as red as a Weasleys and she knew he had taken advantage of his chance to get an eyeful.

"Now..." Pansy began to scan the parchment in her hands as she seemingly absent-mindedly began to move around the table again. She excused herself again as she squeezed past Potter once more to reach something beside him. She delighted in the feeling of him tensing up behind her then--

Ah. Fourth time the charm.

"Pard-- _oh_ \--" Pansy paused in front of Potter, her arse directly against him and she felt his cock stir against her. Simultaneously, he placed a hand on her hip to hold her still against him.

"Those are Charms notes," he said, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Oh, are they?" Pansy looked up and pretended to be surprised, though her smirk gave it away. "I hadn't noticed."

She circled her hips once and she could feel his jaw tighten just before his hand dropped from her hip.

"I've got practice," he announced abruptly though it took him an extended moment to actually move.

"Bring back a bit more shrake, if you can!" she called after him gleefully before humming to herself and continuing the potion. Finally, she had bested Potter and this was a game she knew best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneak peak for next chapter:
> 
>  _"You don't have to explain, really."_  
>  "--holding some kind of torch--"  
> "I get it."  
> "--friends, always just friends, and I've appreciated that--"  
> "Theo!" she exclaimed, holding up her hands. "I wasn't thinking anything of it. Just trying to make conversation."


	6. What(Who) Is A Pathetic Excuse For A Man?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy has given up on expecting anything resembling normalcy in her life. She went from being an Alpha within her own house to sleeping on dungeon floors, punching Gryffindors and shagging just to keep the sadness away. Most surprising of all, Hermione Granger has her back.

**September 10, 1996 (late evening)**

In the end, Potter got the last laugh.

The unbelievable prick never came back.

Pansy, fuming though still rational, continued to work alone as the hours ticked by, well past the time she realized her moronic partner wouldn't be returning to finish their assignment. Maybe she had pushed him too far by trying to make him feel uncomfortable, or maybe he was an immature arse who was unable to shake off a couple feelings of discomfort. Whatever the excuse was, Potter will surely pay for it tomorrow. The four-eyed overgrown house-elf was far more trouble than he was worth. During normal times, she would have laughed at her own description of him, but now Pansy could only frown.

I n the span of just a couple of weeks, Pansy has been essentially rejected by two men; one whom she detested and one who-- well--

Fresh tears sprung to her eyes, like they always did when Draco managed to slip past her mental firewall and invade her thoughts. Without Potter in the room, Pansy let herself sob pitifully as she scrambled to prepare double the potion with no extra help, only wiping her tears away when she feared they were dangerously close to falling into the cauldron. What a sight she must have been in that moment: frizzy hair, exhausted features, and a body that shook with sobs every minute or so.

As always, the worst part of it all was the fact that Pansy had no rhyme nor reason to be weeping over Draco's avoidance or Potter's unreliability. These were two men that she decided long ago were not worth much of her emotional investment. And yet, her misery persists and she didn't even have the pleasure of blaming her period any more.

"Fuck this," Pansy said to the steamy air as she glanced at her watch. It was already past midnight.

But one sad look at the fifteen vials she has managed to brew so far and Pansy already knew that the rest of her classmates would have far more. And of course, it wouldn't exactly be her first all-nighter. Slamming her face into her hands, she shouted in frustration into her palms. After a long minute of that, and another moment to wipe away the reminder of her tears, she settled into her work again. In between slicing, dicing, stirring, and waiting, she repeated a mantra of all the men in her life that can go fuck themselves at that moment; Draco, Potter, Slughorn, and she threw in Dumbledore for good measure.

**September 11, 1996 (morning)**

The next morning arrived with Pansy laying beneath a table in the room where she had spent all night in. Blinking away the sleep from her eyes, it took Pansy all of three seconds to realize she had ten minutes for breakfast and absolutely no time for her morning. Scrambling, she packed up the two dozen or so vials she had brewed last night -- abandoning the bit that was still in the cauldron, it had sat for too long, anyway -- and made a half-arsed attempt to clear the wrinkles from her shirt and flatten down her frizzled hair.

She was breathless when she half-walked/half-ran into the Great Hall, lugging her potions behind her. Her state didn't go unnoticed by most of the hall, but her grumbling stomach forced her to ignore any social repercussions that bound to be coming her way.

"You look--" Blaise wisely stopped as soon as Pansy's glare landed on him. She stopped at the edge of the table, purposefully ignoring Draco (and Astoria, who was sitting in _her_ seat, something that would have earned Pansy's ire any other time), and begin swiping strawberries, pieces of toast, and a sausage from her friends' plates.

"Hungry," Theo finished flatly for Blaise.

Before answering Pansy reached forward and stole his glass of orange juice, chugged half of it, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Excuse me, but I do need my energy before I find Potter and murder him," she replied in a falsely sweet voice. "He left me to finish Slughorn's assignment all by myself-- all night long. I slept on the _floor_. I haven't even brushed my teeth--"

"Oh, so that's the smell," Draco said with a smirk, earning a quiet giggle from the blond beside him.

If she were in any other mood, Pansy would have rolled her eyes and moved on, but instead she shot Draco her worst sneer -- one she learned from him, ironically enough -- and spat, "Fuck off, wanker."

The look of mild surprise on his face alone was worth it, but Pansy didn't get a chance to gloat. She had Transfiguration then a break before Potions, though before she could start her day there was another man who needed her wrath. The Great Hall was partly empty now, though thankfully Potter and his merry band of idiots were amongst the few who stayed behind and were hovering by the entrance.

"Potter, you pathetic, petty excuse for a man," Pansy said spat, which was normal enough though her clenched fist was anything but. She walked past, and ignored, two angry Weasleys and a cautious Hermione, and strolled straight up to Potter. Before he had a chance to speak and ruin her momentum, Pansy pulled back her fist and sprung it forward and upward to connect solidly with Potter's nose. " _Fuck you._ "

"What--!"

" _Oh my god_!"

"Pug-faced--"

Whatever it was the Gryffindors surrounding Potter were shouting at her, Pansy blocked it all out. In addition, she paid no attention to the down-right shocked faces of her housemates. After all, there was Transfiguration class she needed to attend and she was in need for a quick trip to the bathroom before she could start her day.

Unfortunately, it wouldn't be a normal day if Theo didn't attempt to micro-manage and repair her life. Pansy wasn't even surprised when he was leaning against a sink in the girls' bath when she exited the still that now reeked of her pitiful breakfast.

"Ate too fast," she said dryly before leaning into a into a sink and guiding water from the faucet into her mouth. When she was finished and used her wand to refresh her mouth to minty perfection, Theo was holding a danish.

"There's more where that came from if you tell me what the hell that was."

Pansy snorted, but she couldn't deny the food so she quickly grabbed it though this time she made sure to chew and swallow carefully. "I told you all already. Potter is a prick."

"I've never seen you resort to such Muggle-ishly savage violence, Pansy," he said without smiling.

"I hadn't slept all night. I'm exhausted and _angry_. I'm-- I'm angry at everything, Theo. I'm just always angry and-- and miserable."

That sudden bit of honestly was unexpected, even to her and she could tell Theo felt it as well because he awkwardly brought his hand up and placed it on her shoulder. Pansy leaned into his touch as she nibbled on her pastry. His brown eyes looked so soft and welcoming, and he was awfully close to her, and kinder than anyone has been to her in what seemed like ages.

"You should let me help you," he said softly. "You don't have to do everything alone--"

"I've always been able to--"

"But not now!" he exclaimed, causing her to tense up though his voice immediately lowered. "You must allow let someone else take care of you."

"Oh, Theo," she whispered as he moved in to put his arms around her. "I _smell_."

"No, you don't," he laughed, which she both felt and heard with her forehead against his chest. She felt him take a deep breath, and she mimicked it right after, her entire body calming with a single inhale.

"Theo."

"Yes."

"Theo," she repeated and pulled away from him slightly to reach her hand to his neck and pull him down until her lips were on his. He froze, just for a moment, before kissing back for an equally short moment.

"No-- Pansy, we can't--"

"Please," she whispered urgently, swatting away his hand that held her back so she could cup his groin. "I _need_ this."

Theo buckled forward and closed his eyes, maybe trying to convince himself that a crying, vomiting, exhausted witch wasn't exactly in the right mental state to make this decision. Whatever his internal monologue was, Theo ultimately gave in to his lesser brain.

" _Gods_ ," he muttered as he placed both hands on the side of her face and brought her up to the tips of her toes to kiss her deeply, and eagerly, then pulling back to whisper against her lips, "We're going to be late for--"

"Okay, Theo, shut up," Pansy interrupted him breathlessly before pulling on his tie to bring his lips back down to her. He responded quickly, and began shedding his cloak and schoolbag on the bathroom floor as she pulled him by the tie into the nearest stall that she hadn't vomited in recently.

The moment the stall door locked behind him, Theo's hands were touching and groping anywhere he could reach. He propped her up against the door by her arse and used his free hand to knead her breast and pinch her nipple through her shirt. All the while, their lips hardly disconnected. Given an inch, he took full control of his encounter, which Pansy had no problem with. Just the feeling of having his warm body against hers, his tongue tangled with hers, his hands all over her, it made her feel full again. Her exhaustion from earlier in addition to full-body need for a lay made her deliriously happy and desperate for him.

"Th-- Theo," she gasped as she pushed his face away. She paused to look at him before continuing, his red face and bruised lips, his wild eyes full of the same desperation she felt. Merlin, she lived for this. "Now-- fuck me _now_."

He didn't need to be told twice, and Pansy was grateful for it as he resumed their snogging and got to work on his trousers. In just a few moments, she heard his belt clink against the bathroom floor. She was dropped to the floor for a moment and together that frantically tore off her knickers, their lips and tongues never disconnecting as they finished and he picked her up again. Seconds later, she felt him enter her and they both shared a moan, too deep in the moment to focus on their intense snog anymore.

Pansy stared at Theo as he froze inside of her, his eyes closed and his mouth agape. She desperately wanted him to move, so much so that she slowly began to wind her hips around him, but she was getting just as much pleasure from watching the way he seemed so completely lost in her.

"I feel like I've been waiting forever for this," he said hoarsely after what seemed like an eternity. "Every since-- _Gods, Pansy_ \--"

At last, he started to move, first slowly, then faster and faster until the small of her back was being slammed against the door of the stall so hard she feared it would break. The acoustics of the bathroom forgave nothing, and even as Pansy tired to muffle her noises, and with Theo's face hidden against her neck, the sounds of them fucking came back to them twice-fold.

And they sounded magnificent.

Pansy twisted her fingers into Theo's mousy brown locks and dug her nails into his upper back. His hands remained on her bottom and hips, guiding her towards him every time he thrust forward. They stayed in that position for only a couple more minutes, until Theo both tired himself out and spent himself inside of her. He slowed down progressively and with a long groa. Again, he froze with her still in his until, with shaky legs, he took a step back and lowered her to the ground.

He had a hand against the side of the stall, apparently bracing himself, and kept his eyes low. Though his fringe was keeping Pansy from seeing his face, she was could tell him his breathing that Theo had entirely over-exerted himself. This was a boy that didn't play Quidditch, after all. She kept her smile to herself by pursing her lips and bending down to collect her knickers. As if her movements reminded Theo that his own trousers were around his ankles and "flaccid cock partly covered by a white button" wasn't a good look, he quickly rushed to dress himself as well.

"Worth the wait?"

She needed to break the silence, it was crushing after the fun they had had and she had no idea what he was thinking.

When Theo finally looked at her, he was actively suppressing a grin even though the evidence was in his eyes. "Ah-- right, listen. About that, it's not like I've been _pining_ \--"

"You don't have to explain, really."

"--holding some kind of torch--"

"I get it."

"--friends, always just friends, and I've appreciated that--"

"Theo!" she exclaimed, holding up her hands. "I wasn't thinking anything of it. Just trying to make conversation."

"Ah, aha," he chuckled awkwardly. "I merely wouldn't want you to fear me making a big thing of this, if you-- if you feel it wasn't meant to be."

Pansy gave him a confused look, though she perfectly understood what he meant. She cleared her throat and nodded, "Listen, we're already late enough as is, so--"

"Right!"

All too happy to escape an awkward moment, Theo followed Pansy out of the stall and they quickly collected their things and magically attempted to make themselves presentable. After a largely silent walk to Transfiguration, they both paused just before the door.

"You can go first," he offered. "I'll follow in a couple of minutes."

Pansy nodded curtly though before she could turn away Theo grabbed her wrist and bent down to place a soft kiss on her lips. "I truly am a better wizard by having you in my life, Pansy Parkinson. We all are."

She opened her mouth to respond, only to close it again and merely nod. It was precisely what she needed to hear and there was no need to ruin that by opening her mouth.

Thankfully, they were able to discreetly enter Transfiguration without incident. In fact, the class was already so fully enthralled in their task that not even the professor noticed two late Slytherins slipping in. By the time the pair secured the seat near the back, Pansy realized she would have been at a loss without Theo beside her. Rather than struggling to understand the assignment of the day by herself, Theo quickly recognized the spell and chapter the class was on. At the very least they weren’t entirely clueless and were able to begin practicing the Bird-Conjuring Charm as if they has been in class from the very start. While Theo managed to conjure a bird before her, Pansy didn’t feel too bad when a few squawks coughed out of her wand.

As much as she wanted to put her best performance forward, the compilation of thoughts clouding her brain seemed to be hindering her best magic. With Theo right beside her, and the both of them smelling so clearly like fresh sex, and Potter just across the room, Pansy could barely hear herself think. Against her best efforts, her eyes eventually landed on Potter, who seemed to be having the same amount of success as her with the Bird-Conjuring Charm.

For once Pansy pitied Granger as she witnessed the poor girl struggle through attempting to walk Potter through the basics of casting the charm, meanwhile Potter looked as if he was actively avoiding Pansy’s gaze at all costs.  His nose, though it has a small patch over the bridge, has stopped bleeding.

Unfortunately.

Fucking prick.

However, Pansy found that she wasn’t nearly as angry as she had been before. Perhaps punching Potter was exactly the release she was yearning for. Then again, getting fucked in the girls lavatory also helped.

Still, it was a wonderful feeling to have punched Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived got his nose bloodied by a five-foot-nothing Slytherin girl. Though the Great Hall has been emptying out at that point, enough students saw it that the entire school may know by now – after all, hot gossipy spread faster than venereal disease in Hogwarts. Judging by the odd stares (more than usual, that is) at least this particular class was well informed.

Hell, even McGonagall looked more sour than usual. That reminded Pansy that her little stunt may still cause hell to rain down on her from Potters’ most loyal followers.

“That will be all for today, students!” Professor McGonagall shouted over the noise, immediately bringing Pansy out of her thoughts. “Tonight’s chapter is on human transformation. Very impor—“

Pansy began to tune the professor out and pack her things, eager to race back to her dormitory and use her free period to clean off the feeling of sleeping in the library overnight—and getting fucked in a toilet. Unfortunately, just when she thought her beeline towards the door was successful, the human equivalent to a bucket of cold water thwarted her again.

“Parkinson! Wait!”

She shouted with the force that only a holier-than-thou Gryffindor could have. Granger’s faux-authority and ridiculous amount of meddling knew no bounds. Still, if only her own curiosity, Pansy stepped to the side as she exited the class as impatiently tapped her foot as she waited for Granger.

“What’s going on?” Theo whispered cautiously as he approached her with crossed arms. Pansy secured her hands on her hips and shrugged indifferently. Her eyebrows were furrowed to match her frown, her entire demeanor steeled as if prepared for battle.

“Parkinson,” Granger repeated breathlessly as she seemingly dragged Potter through the threshold of the classroom. “Harry told me what happened. Yesterday, I mean. While I would never condone revenge, I found it abhorrent that he would skip out on his school work—And, well—Harry has something to say to you.”

Beside her, Theo choked back a chuckle, and that alone Pansy found ironic. Granger and Theo had practically the same articulation.

Outwardly, however, she merely blinked. She did it again as the silence grew between the four.

Then with an exasperated sigh, Potter stepped forward from behind Granger and nearly spat, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you to do the work alone. It wasn’t fair of me.”

“Good Merlin, Potter,” Pansy said dryly. “I didn’t take you for the emotional type.”

“Don’t rub it in,” he said through clenched teeth.

“No, I mean—“ her mouth twitched slightly as Pansy attempted to bite back a grin, “Thank you. Or, I suppose, thank _you,_ m—Granger,” Pansy nearly accidentally slipped, but her smile remained sickly sweet all the same. “Honestly, I had thought last night was a bit of a revenge on your part.”

“A revenge for what?” Granger glanced between her and Potter. One look at Theo and Pansy could tell he was equally as clueless, which caused her to smirk knowingly.

“For—“

“For being unbearable in general,” Potter interrupted her, which only made Pansy’s smirk wider. She was his dirty little secret, it seemed.

Perfect.

“And you know what?” Pansy said suddenly as the idea came to her. “You have my sincerest and most earnest apologies for the way I’ve behaved, Potter. Let's call it even now - no need to bring Slughorn into this business. I’m just happy to put this all behind us. I for one predict a brighter future for us all here on out.”

Both Nott and Granger looked as if they were in varying stages of shock, though Granger seemed more grateful due to the fact that her little intervention actually worked. Pansy would have given anything to insult her right then but instead she maintained her steadfast faux sweet smile. Her sights were set on Potters grimacing face, a far more promising target to focus her attention on.

“Look at that,” Granger finally spoke, oblivious to Potters’ silent discomfort, though still wary in her own right. “I dare say that Slughorn’s little house unity experiment may be working. Perhaps event Ronald and I can learn a little lesson from you two.”

Theo coughed loudly beside her, which only earned him him a sharp elbow in the side, a move that Granger wisely choose to ignore for the benefit of their entire interaction.

“Right, I’m sure Weasley and I will be next to hug it out before the semester is over. Speaking of house unity,” he glanced at his watch quickly before shooting Pansy a look that told her she had a lot of explaining to so later. “Would you like a companion to walk you to Arithmancy, Granger. Following in Miss Parkinson’s lead, I am more than willing to reach across the aisle in the name of school-wide peace.”

 _Tosser_ , Pansy thought with a mental eyeroll, immediately recognizing Theo’s attempt to throw her his own confusing gesture.

Granger, though she still looked optimistically cautious, nodded after giving Potter a small smile that said more between them than made sense to Pansy. 

“Wait--” Potter tried to stop them as Granger swung her bag over her shoulder, but he was a moment too late. Granger only gave him a comforting glance over her shoulder and mouthed something Pansy couldn’t decipher.

Theo on the other hand, only shrugged and had an expression that Pansy read as indifferent. But she knew better, and couldn’t help the twinge of disappoint that tugged at her core. It was less than an hour hour ago that he had so desperately shagged her in the girls’ bathroom. Indifference and a shrug was hardly the response she wanted from him as he walked away. Nott knew her as someone who never shied away from casual fucks, but it was just now that Pansy realized he may also be apt for the same.

By now, however, the nausea-inducing twisting in her stomach and chest-clenching pressure on her heart was so expected that Pansy only took a deep breath to force the her emotions to subside before she steeled herself to look back at Potter. His expression was more tired than angry, which she could appreciate. Even a mean Gryffindor would have been an unfair burden on her at the moment.

“Harry Potter,” she said with a smirk after an extended moment of silence. “You let Granger scold you into apologizing to me. Gods, I never thought you the type to--”

“Save it,” he sighed, leaning against the stonewall behind him. “Christ, Parkinson, what was I supposed to say? Last night, I just wanted to get back at you for- for--” his face started to turn slightly pink but before Pansy could tease him for it, Potter continued, “Anyway, I told Ron and he opened his mouth in front of Hermione. And trust me, a slap from you is nothing compared to her once she gets heated up. Apologizing to you was the least painful thing that would have happened to me. It was self-preservation, which as a Slytherin, I’m sure you understand."

“I do,” she said simply, crossing her arms over her chest with an arched eyebrow. “Which is why I’m also wondering why you didn’t tell your friends why exactly you didn’t come back to the room last night. An insufferable, bigoted Slytherin slag made you uncomfortable; what a lovely cover for you holier-than-thou Gryffindors.”

Potters’ silence was enough for her. The fact that the notoriously snarky Boy Who lived didn’t already have a smart retort told Pansy that perhaps he didn’t even know what to think. Sure, he was upset; she had invaded his private space, revealed a part of him that he’d rather not know, even bettered him at something that he hadn’t anticipated. All signs pointed to her winning, but connecting the dots between sex and Pansy Parkinson in Potters’ mind seemed like it was almost too much for him to easily grapple with.

“I know what you want me to say,” Potter replied slowly. “Are you so eager for someone to acknowledge you as a viable woman that you’d stoop to blackmailing me of all people?”

Pansy’s smirk didn’t waver, but she did roll her eyes to further mask her disappoint.

Damn him -- he did know how to bloody get to her.

Fuck Potter, he was more like Draco than he knew.

“Oh, Harry,” she said in a mockingly sweet tone. “This isn’t about _you_ , dear. This is about me. More specifically, this is about my grade in Potions. I’m done with you skirting our responsibilities then taking a peek into that ratty book of yours and finding some bulltshit answer. We have a semester year project to work on and you can’t find that in your fucking book.”

“How did--” Potter looked taken aback, but Pansy didn’t have the patience to play game with him.

“We sit right next to each other, moron. I know your handwriting from whoever demolished your textbook a hundred years ago. But listen, I don’t care if you’re cheating. Literally, go the fuck on. It couldn’t possibly bother me less. I only care about our partner work and starting our research on the project. We start this weekend or I swear on everything that is good and holy--”

“Fine,” Potter held up his hand and interrupted her, “You win. We’ll start this this Friday evening. Now, I don’t want to waste another second of my free period with this conversation. Six pm good for you?"

She won. Pansy smiled -- she _won_. After agreeing on the time with Potter, a bidding his grumbling back an all too cheerful goodbye, Pansy practically began skipping back to the Slytherin dormitories to enjoy her own free time until she had to face the rest of the day.

**September 11, 1996 (afternoon)**

Her happiness was short-lived.

As Pansy made her way back to the dungeons, she realized that she was alone yet again. Her stomach churned, but she didn’t bother to head for the bathroom. Soon she will be in the comfort of her own dorm and she was just a shower and a pepper-up potion away from the dread settling into her bones being slightly relieved. Now that her quarrel with Potter at least partly squared away, and Pansy refused to think about Draco and how distant he has been, and how close Astoria seemed to be with him this morning, and Theo and questioning whether or not he enjoyed being in her presence and--

Pansy desperately tried to keep herself from spiraling into a self-doubting madness again. At this rate her sour mood and worsening health was practically a part of her routine, and she reached the point of dealing with her physical and mental decline while trying to keep her conscious mind in tact. On a day-to-day basis, she could set her clock to the exact moment her internal struggle would begin to bubble over;

_Wake up._

_Shower._

_Cry._

_Classes._

_Vomit._

_Lunch._

_Classes._

_Sob._

_Dinner._

_Battle subconsciousness._

_Homework._

_Cry._

_Sleep._

Repeat.

It was the antithesis of what she thought her sixth year would be. With her and Draco done, her growing independence, and a newfound sense of self-confidence, Pansy had felt poised to have her strongest year yet.

Instead, she was still a miserable bitch and now she was even making herself miserable.

As she approached the stone wall to the Slytherin dorm, Pansy furiously wiped her eyes of the tears that had begun to fall down her cheeks without her realizing. In the most confident voice she could muster, she said the password -- _Invictus Maneo_ \-- and immediately made a straight line to the girls’ dorm.

As quickly as she could, Pansy dropped her things and grabbed everything she needed for a hot shower. She didn’t have much time before her free period was over and she intended to take advantage of every minute she could. For extra satisfaction, once she was in the shower, Pansy sharply turned the knob for water laced with a mind-calming potion. The next half an hour was practically heaven. The only thoughts to pass through her mind were concerning washing her hair, scrubbing her body clean of a night of potion-making, and what she was craving for lune later. It was the first peaceful moment she had had in a long time. Back in her form, she continued to channel that calm energy as she brushed her hair, got dressed, and took her daily potions.

First pepper-up.

Then her oily hair and skin control serum.

Next her contraceptive potion.

And lastly a large sip from the back-head corrector her mother found for her.

Though, after a second look at the bags under her eyes, Pansy took a short swig from her invigoration potion for good measure.

She flashed herself a smile in the mirror, trying to get her exterior to affect her interior, then sharply frowned before grabbing her school bag and materials and heading to Potions.

**September 12, 1996 (afternoon)**

“You didn’t scare me off by the way,” Potter said without preamble, "I – I was just surprised.”

Potter had leaned over and whispered during Slughorn’s lecture less than a half an hour into their lesson. Pansy’s mood, still as sour as always, caused her to sneer at him in return.

“ _Right_ ,” she hissed in a way that failed to sound as sarcastic as she wanted to.

“Yeah. Surprised,” he repeated through a clenched jaw. “Surprised that there’s actually a woman beneath those fifteen layers of spitefulness.”

"You’d be lucky to know what I _actually_ am, Potter.”

“Not just a Slytherin slag, then?”

She shot him a sharp glare, before looking back at the front of the classroom. Pansy resisted the urge to punch him again before answering, “My knowledge is vast and varied, thank you very much. You’d be a lucky boy indeed if you ever had the tiniest taste.”

Before Potter could respond, Pansy quickly raised her hand and asked the professor to explain the difference between dragon claw ooze and dragon blood. Potter’s face was flushed again, which she ignored, along with the odd looks from her friends scattered around the room. She prided herself on being a competent potioneer and the last thing she’d ever want to do is request a _professor_ ’s help, especially one that clearly played favorites in his class. Still, anything to shut Potter up. After he answered Pansy’s question, the professor seemed to remind himself of the task they were supposed to complete, and any hope that her hard work would be recognized vanished.

Similar to her and Potter, it seemed like most of the groups had had a hard time creating more than a dozen or two vials of Essence of Dittany. Fortunately, while they hadn’t created the most amount, her night-long effort put them in the top three groups and that caught Slughorn’s attention.

Unfortunately, however, he lavished most of his praise onto Potter. Even the actual winners – Macmillian and Davis’ honor – got less attention than the miraculous Boy Wonder. While Potter sheepishly allowed Slughorn to go on for a full four minutes on how he had inherited his poor deceased mothers’ natural talents, Pansy seethed silently beside him. Though they agreed to some semblance of a truce to complete their project, Pansy shouldn’t have been surprised that Potter allowed the acclaim to fall solely on him. Perhaps he was a cowardly lion, or maybe his dislike for her was merely that deep.

Pansy help onto that anger – in addition to her prior frustrations – until the end of the class, when she was finally free to leave this terrible classroom.

While she was able to shake away looks from both Draco and Theo, Potter was much faster. He caught up with her before she was able to turn the corner and quickly caught her elbow. For the second time that day, Pansy was looking up at Potter’s miserable face as he was on the cusp of an apology.

“Alright,” he sighed. “Maybe that wasn’t fair.”

Pansy remained silent as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Can I help that the man really likes me?”

More silence, this time paired with an arched eyebrow.

“I’ll start contributing my fair share-“

“You sure as fuck throw around the word _fair_ like you know what it means, Potter,” Pansy spat.

“Jesus Christ, I’m trying to do the right thing right now. Apologizing, doing my work. Can you just – fucking hell – calm down for once? Not everything is about you.”

Pansy frowned sharply. His words were resonating but mere words never did anything to lift the weight on her chest. Instead of answer, Pansy turned on her heels and began walking the other way.

“Parkinson-“

“Fine!” she shouted. She stopped short and lowered her voice as she noticed other students began looking their way. Quickly looking over her shoulder, she rolled her eyes and continued, “Th- thank you, Potter.

“And I still hate you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneak peek for next chapter:
> 
>  
> 
> _The pair spent a few moment staring at each other, Theo from his bed and Pansy awkwardly standing in the center of the room._  
>  Stupid, stupid, stupid. You stupid cow, she thought, foolishly realizing that in her miserable state she pathetically went searching for Draco comfort - comfort that didn't exist.


	7. Shiny Trinkets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's one step forward, five steps back for Pansy and Harry and per usual its her own bad attitude that gets in the way. If purposefully ruining any chances at civilly completing her project with Potter and hating herself more every day wasn't bad enough, then senselessly whoring around was a miserable way to rectify the situation.

**September 13, 1996**

On Friday the 13th, Pansy dragged herself from bed with the assistance of what ended up being the last of her pepper-up potion supply. She groaned at herself, rubbed her temples to attempt to lessen her headache, then ultimately decided they weren’t working anyway. She ran a hand through her oily scalp and, with a tired sigh, began her day.

Blaise and Theo had waited for her downstairs, and again, no Draco.

“He’s gone to fly around the pitch early,” Blaise answered her silent question. Pansy nodded mutely and headed towards the Common Room entrance.

“Ah shit,” she exclaimed, sounded almost as exhausted as she felt. “I’ve got to meet with Potter again tonight.”

“Just don’t go,” Blaise shrugged as they turned the corner, “Show him what it’s like to be played.”

“Can’t fall behind in class,” she shook her head. “I just – I really can’t.”

However, that was a decision she ended up regretting by the end of the day. Pansy was tired, distraught, and barely able to focus on the words in front of her. Still, she made her way to the library and, surprisingly found Potter was already there. They greeted each other with short nods as she went around the table and sat in front of him.

“Let’s get started then,” he said, clearing his throat.

“We can just throw out ideas until we land on something that fits,” Pansy offered, sounding oddly cordial. Potter only nodded, and with that the pair set off.

As her eyes began running down the pages of various potions and their descriptions, Pansy felt her eyes glaze over, and eventually the occasional sniff could be heard from their table. Potter was thankfully silent to her pitiful sniffling after she quietly waved it off as a cold. With only two weeks into the school year, it was still too warm for any students to be falling ill, but Potter – likely out of disinterest or gullibility – said nothing.

“We could do a Confusion Concoction,” Potter said a half an hour into their session.

“De-gnoming a garden is just as brutish, if you prefer something more outdoorsy,” Pansy answered in a bored tone, though lacking her usual confident sarcasm.

“That’s the fourth potion you’ve shot down, Parkinson,” Potter responded, sounding more tired than angry. “I can’t be here all night. I’ve got – I’ve got a dinner to go to.”

Pansy looked confused for a moment before quickly recovering. That prick much have decided Harry bloody Potter was more worth than her to attend his idiotic club of hand-picked misfit trophies. That blood traitor Weasley, the McLaggen buffoon,  the walking corpses Carrow girls, and even Blaise, her friend but surely they were on the same level in terms of reputation.

They were all better than her apparently.

“Ah,” she said after clearing her throat. “The Boy Who Lived goes to dinner. Sounds like the worst musical of the year.

Potter stared at her oddly for a moment then gave her a shit-eating grin. “You’re jealous.”

“I am not.”

"Are too.

"Am _not_."

“Are too.”

“Gods, stop this.”

“Why?” he laughed, “It’s fun seeing you realize you’re not nearly as great as you think you are.”

His moronic face of enjoyment was almost too much for her. He looked so damn happy in the face of her misery that she could only scowl in return. For a moment, she considered biting her tongue rather than say the cruelest thing she could think of.

The she just said it, because it wasn’t as if anyone ever tempered their language when speaking to her.

“He’s just collecting shiny trinkets, stupid,” Pansy spat. “The Dark Lord and your dead mummy and daddy are the only things that make you special.”

The silence between them was deafening. Pansy could only frown internally while trying to keep her face controlled as she realized being cruel did nothing to help lessen her own feeling of despair. It used to be that earning a look of woe or anger after delivering a particularly scathing comment was hilarious.

But Potter's face was blank.

And now, she was still empty.

“You’re pathetic, Parkinson,” Potter said after the silence became unbearable.

“Wha–“

“You hate yourself so much that you push that hatred onto other people – better people. Kind people. Genuinely good people that make you feel small. So you try to bring them down-“

“You have no idea-“

“I do,” Potter said simply as he began packing up his things and swung his bag over his shoulder. “I do. You’re pathetic and you’ll never be any better.”

Pansy watched numbly as Potter turned away from her and left her alone in the library with only her books and her thoughts.

**September 13, 1996 (evening)**

“It’ll be worthless anyway, Pansy. Imagine the food Slughorn would have ordered. Just the thought of it makes me want to vomit-“

“Ahem.”

Theo’s light cough, almost inaudible from the noise across the Slytherin Common Room, stopped Blaise in his tracks. Her two friends shared a look, a subtle one, though it was not lost to the small, pale, sickly-looking girl between them.

“Stop doing that,” Pansy grumbled, pulling her cardigan tighter around herself. “I’m not made of porcelain.”

“Fine. We will,” Blaise shrugged, “just go to the Hospital Wing.”

“Like hell.”

“I’ll knock you out myself and drag you there if I have to.”

“Not likely,” Pansy scoffed in disbelief. She’s always been faster than Theo and more crafty than Blaise when it came to dueling. Draco has been the only one of her friends to best her.

“Have you seen yourself lately? Your magic gets weaker by the day. You couldn’t disarm a first year,” Theo said in his usual soft yet earnest way.

Pansy sighed and closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the soft she was sprawled on. “I just need sleep. Just let me sleep.”

Though usually falling asleep in the common room was impossible, the moment Pansy closed her eyes she willed herself to slip away. And, after purposefully blocking out Theo and Blaise’s hurried whispers, she did.

**September 14, 1996 (very, very earning morning)**

Hours later, Pansy woke up in a dark and empty common room. She blinked several times as she tried to bring herself fully into conscious and orient herself to her surroundings. It must have been well after midnight for the common room to be so empty on a Friday night.  Whatever time it was, the eerie silence was occasionally interrupted by an underwater creature exploring the lake floor and murky green light coming through the large floor-to-ceiling windows. It was a scene that may have been frightening at one point, so unnerving and still, but Pansy was accustomed to it, and she found comfort in it. 

She took a deep breath, then another, as she brought her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her shin. The lake was still, the room was calm, so she could be too.

Though she couldn’t tell how much time passed, the wetness on her face back obvious to her soon enough. Crying, again. Nothing was happening, but she couldn’t stop crying.

“Fuck,” she said quietly to the empty room. “What is wrong with me?”

Rather than attempt to contemplate her own question, Pansy slowly lifted herself from her seat and started to make her way to the boys dormitory. She didn’t fully understand what she was intending until she pushed open a familiar door and peered inside. Per usual, their dorm was messier – and smellier – than her own but even so, she smiled at the familiar scents. Draco, Blaise, and Theo have slept in the same room since the first year, and since then Pansy has made herself at home within their walls. In the beginning, it was all innocent games and late night chats, then eventually she found herself in Draco bed.

“Who’s there? _Lumos_.”

Pansy partly shielded her eyes slightly Theo pointed his well-lit wand at her. “Put that away,” she muttered, her voice quieter than usual.

“Pansy? Wha – what are you doing here?” he asked, turning on his bed until his feet were on the floor.

Pansy ignored his question and bewildered tone. Clearly the well-composed and perfectly calm Theo she knew was not able to survive being randomly awoken in the middle of the night. She was sure she had seen him napping before, or even in the early morning, just after he has woken up, but never like this; so vulnerable, full of confusion, unsure of what may come and unable to come up with a guess.

“Where’s Draco?” she asked suddenly, noticing his empty bed. Right beside it was another with neatly folded sheets. “And Blaise?”

Theo cleared his throat in an attempt to compose himself, though he still looked pitifully cute with his tousled hair and croaky voice. “He, ah, hasn’t been spending most nights here. And Blaise, well, he never came back from dinner. I’m sure they’re both fine.”

“Oh.”

The pair spent a few moment staring at each other, Theo from his bed and Pansy awkwardly standing in the center of the room.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid. You stupid cow,_ she thought, foolishly realizing that in her miserable state she pathetically went searching for Draco comfort - comfort that didn't exist.

Her mental beratment thankfully didn’t long.

“Pansy, you look terrible.”

“You're hardly a gem either, Nott,” she countered rudely, causing Theo to lean back slightly in surprise. Sighing, she crossed the room and perched herself on the side of his bed. “I – I’m sorry. I’m not myself.”

“Let me – us help you, Pansy,” Theo pleaded. “Merlin, you’re hardly ever yourself these days.”

“I don't need - I just don't know... I mean... I just need-“ Pansy steeled herself and placed a hand on Theo's thigh, partly hoping that he would be rebuke her and partly knowing that he wouldn't. “Theo, kiss me.”

"Pans-"

"It's what I need, love," she said in a kind whisper as she raised a hand and place it on his cheek. She moved closer to him and began to move to straddle him. "It's - it's what I've been thinking of."

Theo said nothing as she lightly placed a kiss on his collar bone, then his neck, then his jaw, and finally she felt him exhale. Tilting her head up, Pansy gave him a small smile, though she wasn't sure he could see it in the dim, murky light of the lake.

"Are you sure?"

His voice quivered with uncertainty but his hands moved with confidence to her hips. Pansy didn't answer him. Instead, she pushed him down onto the bed and pressed her lips on his. That apparently was all the assure Theo needed. His body moved under hers, shifting and twisting until their pelvises were grinding and providing just the friction they needed to make them both desperate for more. 

Pansy wasted no time; she stripped herself of her blouse and revealed her perky breasts, and Theo responded by shoved his sleeping shorts down to to his ankles. Seconds later, he was inside her, and Pansy threw her head back with a moan. She rocked her body against his and he twisted one hand into sheets while the other gripped her arse. She moved herself faster and fester, clenching her muscles around him, and riding him with an urgency that displayed her sheer need.

"Pans - Pansy," he groaned, tightening his hold on her. "I won't last-"

No sooner did the words leave his mouth than Pansy felt him empty himself in her. She moaned, and continued for another moment before pausing and inhaling sharply. Pansy quickly attempted to catch her breath as she moved off of him and onto the bed beside him. The pair remained silent as their heavy breaths filled the room. Theo's eyes were closed and his chest was heaving, and Pansy could only stare at him as her own breath began to still. 

"You're amazing," he finally said, still breathless. "That was - for fuck's sake."

Pansy's lips pressed together as she held back a chuckle. It was odd to hear him swear, but then again it was even odder to see him in this position, essentially taking the place of Draco in her life. Distracting her from him, even, and Potter, and everything else.

And she supposed it wasn't so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a sneak peek for the next chapter:
> 
> _Blaise called out, “Hey, idiots! Do you want a month’s worth of detention?” while Theo reached for his wand, presumably to get a shield charm ready should they need it. Potter and Draco both noticed, though neither cared._
> 
> _“I haven’t the faintest what you’re talking about, Potter,” he snarled, his gaunt features becoming even more pronounced._
> 
> _“Katie Bell–“_


	8. Daphne fucking Greengrass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a fight between two friends, a fight between two enemies, an accident, then a fight between friends again. However, in the middle of it all, Pansy and Harry finally reach an agreement that actually may stick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am so sorry for the delay in this chapter! I had a pretty hard time phrasing everything correctly and making sure my pacing all made sense. The next chapter will be up before the weekend, I promise!

**October 7th, 1996 (late afternoon)**

The next couple of weeks were just as much of a whirlwind and turbulent as the first couple. Though the first few days after her second shag with Theo she felt as if she was beginning to loosen up, become her old self again, _laugh_ sometimes, eventually things went back to the painful new normal. She and Potter had fallen into a mutually beneficial system of silently hating each other and only speaking when it strictly had to do with potions, she felt his ire radiate off of him, meanwhile she was sure he could feel a similar feeling from her. If she wasn’t bottling up her angry, then she was shouting her frustrations across the common room; yelling at first years to shut up and snapping at her friends.

It particularly got worse once Draco began regularly showing up in the common room again, though he spent more of his time whispering in the corner to Crabbe and Goyle, who were flanking his right and left side as if they were in their second year again. Once or twice, Blaise attempted start a light-hearted conversation, even offer to fly with him, but Draco would only sneer. Pansy and Theo didn’t fair much better, either, adding to her own sour mood.

As they entered October, and the leaves on the grounds’ trees reminded them how much time has passed since the beginning of the year, Pansy recalled what Draco had said on the train. On to bigger and better things, apparently, and that excluded those he used to call friends.

It made Pansy sickly. It angered Blaise. The Slytherin House seemed to splinter around them. All the while, the drama of it all pushed away Theo. Though, every couple of nights, when she knew the coast would be clear, she would appear by his bed side in the middle of the night again. After spending those fleeting hours together she could tell Theo held on to the same hope she did; that she had changed, and things would go back to the way they had been before.

But things never did.

“Pansy,” she heard a familiar voice call her as she turned the corner. She cursed under her breath and turned to see Theo making his way towards her, in the slow yet purposeful way he always strolled. “You’ve been avoiding the common room.”

She sighed and placed her hands on her hips. “I’ve been busy. N.E.W.T-level Divination is no joke. That Firenze bloke is one hell of a-”

“I’m serious-“

Theo reached out to place a hand on her shoulder but Pansy quickly took a step back and scowl, her face twisting in disgust. “Don’t touch me,” she exhaled in a hiss, her anger – like usual – flaring up at the littlest thing.

He reacted in shock for a moment, but then he quickly frowned.

“Alright, then,” he said quietly. “Loud and clear, Parkin–“

“Oi, you two!”

Pansy immediately recognized the voice and let out a tired groan and lowered her face into her hands; she wanted to hide her stinging eyes and escape from this interaction, to be alone in her own distress and away from the disappointed and annoyed expressions that seemed to constantly be framing her friends' faces.

“What’s wrong here?” Blaise said in confusion. The past few weeks haven’t been easy on him either, and the last thing she wanted was his anger to turn to her. Before she could respond, unfortunately, Theo answered for her.

“Ask her,” he spat, angrier than she had ever heard him before.

“Merlin’s sake, what now?” Blaise exhaled in frustration. Pansy looked up and glared at the pair of them, her teeth showing as she curled her lip in an ugly sneer.

“Oh, fuck off. I don’t need this.”

“Pansy–“

“I said _fuck_ –“

“ _Malfoy_!”

The unmistakable voice of Harry Potter forced all three Slytherins to stop in their tracks. Blaise and Theo, who has been following her down the corridor, shared a look with her and seconds later they changed direction and darted towards the direction of raised voices

As soon as they turned the corner, Pansy eyes fell on a flurry of spells bouncing off the wall and banisters. The three friends gaped as Potter and Draco, seemingly in a fit of rage, dueled in the open corridor in front of a moving staircase.

“You did it!” she heard Potter shout, though Draco only grunted another spell and frowned as the bright red beam missed him. Both boys stopped for a moment as they caught their breaths, leaving Pansy, Blaise, and Theo an opening and get closer to the pair.

Blaise called out, “Hey, _idiots_! Do you want a month’s worth of detention?” while Theo reached for his wand, presumably to get a shield charm ready should they need it. Potter and Draco both noticed, though neither cared.

“I haven’t the faintest what you’re talking about, Potter,” he snarled, his gaunt features becoming even more pronounced.

“Katie Bell–“

“I don’t know who that is!”

“Yes you do, you nearly murdered her-“

Before Potter could finished his accusation, Draco flicked his wand imperceptibly and Potter looked genuinely surprised when his wand went flying to Draco’s hand. Blaise also stopped just as he started to shout again, and Theo lowered his wand. Things were still for a second before Potter launched himself forward and connected his fist solidly into Draco’s jaw. Draco immediately dropped the wands and pushed back, his fist landing into Potter’s gut and in the blink of an eye the two were fighting again, this time with their hits actually connecting.

“Stop it! Stop it! You brutes!”

Pansy was the first to move from her secure spot between Blaise and Theo, who seemed frozen in place now. None of the four boys heard her as Draco and Potter continued to pummel each other, stepping back and forth around the narrow corridor. Draco, who was taller though thinner than Potter, managed to get an arm around his throat while Potter was sinking his fist into Draco’s gut over and over again. She managed to step around them and grab a hole of Draco’s shirt for a moment, attempting to pull him back, but the fighting pair continued to twist and dance around and her lost her hold, and very quickly she was losing her patience.

“How stupid do you two need be–“

 A fist, loudly and soundly, connected with Pansy’s eye, and through the pain she had no idea who did it, though – right up until she lost consciousness – she was aware when she hit the stairs with a loud _thud_. Luckily, darkness had already taken her by the time she started to tumble. 

**October 10th, 1996 (early morning)**

"-and Flora, well she's just been miserable. You'll be glad you missed the the ridiculousness that bint tried to pull. If you were there, you would have gotten it under control in seconds, love, I know it. Anyway, Flora, well she's still angry about Hestia, isn't she? Those twins are fucking bonkers as it is, but apparently one bad break-up and now they're practically unbearable. You were never like that, Pans, not when you and Malfoy split. You handled with like a proper lady, not like these morons. Anyway, Flora, she pulled the worst stunt the other day, like you wouldn't  _believe-_ "

For her part, Pansy had no concept of time or place. Sometimes she was awake, but felt unable to open her eyes and her muffled, inaudible noises around her. Most of the times she was asleep, or something that resembled it, and she heard the voices of her friends and others who weren't her friends. Other than dreaming with the voices of Draco, Blaise, and Theo; she heard the bustling of Madam Pomfrey, pithy but polite; a curiously soft yet curt Snape, which was odd but reassuring; Potter, which in its own way was comforting and equally jarring; Dumbledore, who was the strangest voice of them all; though she didn't know how to differentiate what was real from what wasn't. Sometimes she felt pain - intense and deep, like it was real - and other times she felt weightless, like she was on a cloud, hovering between death and life; peace and pain. It vaguely felt as if she had a choice. She could choose the cloud or she could choose the voices. They were so distinct from each other, one so clearly filled with pain and confusion, versus one that was free floating happiness. The choice was obvious.

Daphne fucking Greengrass had other ideas.

The beautiful blonde Slytherin was in the middle of her riveting tale when Pansy's body convulsed her into consciousness. Suddenly Greengrass' voice became much louder, shouting for something in the distance, and Pansy's body stilled long enough for her to croak-

"Goo - Merli - sh - t _**up**_."

As Pansy slumped back onto her hospital bed, she calmed at the silence around her. Her senses seemed more awaken than her dreams, yet everything seemed equally unreal. 

The silence didn't last long. Pomfrey came to the rescue of her sanity and her voice sounded crisp and clear, grounding Pansy into reality.

"Out! Out! She's awake and you're all causing disturbances - _yes_ , all of you - Mr. Zabini, don't make me call your Head of House. Now, Mr. Malfoy, I'll have none of that, and take Ms. Greengrass with you. That's it - I'll let you know when she's ready for visitors, Mr. Nott, please assist in guiding your housemates out. Yes, yes, of course. Goodbye now!"

If she felt capable to move, Pansy might have laughed. Though it was a good to know her friends her being terribly difficult on her behalf. 

"Miss Parkinson?" Madam Pomfrey's voice echoed around her. Pansy opened her mouth to speak, but she felt the nurse's soft fingers over her lips. "Don't speak. You've had the bones of your neck broken. Fixing those bones, you see, it's all very sensitive. Particularly if you want to save the brain. You may not be able to speak for, well, quite a bit, my dear. I'd recommend keeping it all still the better part of a week."

Pansy, against the specific advice given her, began to attempt to voice her displeasure, but the words came out even more raspy than they sounded before and the pain was more apparent. Her face twisted up in agony and whatever noise of discomfort she had attempted to pronounce came out like a long, hoarse groan. Madam Pomfrey quickly moved around her bed until she gripped a vial in her hand. Gently, the older woman tilted Pansy's head back and dripped the potion down her throat.

**October 12th, 1996 (mid-afternoon)**

"I must see if she's awake. I gave her a mixture of Paralysing Potion, Sleeping Draught, and pain relieving potion, poor girl, so she quite out of it. And Mr. Potter, I have two girls in my beds who can't receive guests all willy-nilly. But you said Professor Slughorn sent you, did he? Well I suppose Ms. Parkinson mustn't let her school work pile up. Come on then."

It must have been a true sign that Pansy was going insane for the fact that she had dreamed of Potter before he arrived at her bedside. The dream itself was nonsense, though even stranger was the fact that he was actually there.

"Parkinson?"

He whisper came softly yet abruptly, and though her had been blankly staring at him for several moments, he shocked her and she attempted to respond.

"Mr. Potter, she's unable to speak at the moment. Simply speak at her and she can hear you, and perhaps she'll be able to move slightly but don't worry if she doesn't respond. I must check on Ms. Bell, now - please excuse me..."

While Pansy's eyes stared unblinkingly up at Potter, he shuffled back and forth on either foot, seemingly unable to know where to start. It was clear that her dream was merely a dream. While she was unconscious, Potter was daring and unafraid. The boy in front of her now seemed unquestionably nervous.

Ridiculous.

Potion-fueled ridiculousness.

"Parkinson," he finally said again. "I've - I've brought you some materials. From class, I mean. Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions. I just- well, I thought I might as well pick them all up for you. Since they're the classes we take together, and well- of course, you'll- you'll need them all, right? I mean. Once you're- you're up and at it."

He chuckled awkwardly, and Pansy wanted to smile and mock him. Such a Gryffindor.

"I suppose, uh, I suppose that'll be it then.

"Well, damn it, Parkinson," Potter placed the books on her bedside and had started to turn around before stopping himself and removing his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose. "Damn it. This is my fault, it's it? I've been thinking about the whole damn thing and Malfoy punched you, then you screamed, and I- I- I pushed you. I pushed you down the moving stairs. And we just had to watch while you fell and- and we didn't do anything. Until Zabini thought to float you before you fell further and cracked you skull open.

"Jesus, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it like that. It's just you seemed- you looked just... I've seen bodies before. Dead ones. And they looked like how you looked at that moment. And I thought if I never got to apologize, then I'm just as bad as - I just wouldn't be who I'd like to be. We've never gotten along, but you don't deserve to die. And I'm sorry for having said so before, and I'm sorry for pushing you. I'm sorry, Parkinson."

Pansy nearly rolled her eyes at the epic melodrama that is Harry Potter's life, and she wanted to life, but she couldn't. The potion was wearing off too slowly - her facial expressions were minimal, and she could barely bring herself to life before Potter left. She needed to look him in the face one more time but he had already turned around by the time she shifted her head.

He was the one who pushed her.

He nearly killed her.

She needed to see his eyes, and she needed him to know that she had heard.

Though her body still wasn't entirely cooperating, Pansy slowly began to scratch her nails against the bed sheet. The itchy hospital beds were almost perfect for the level of sound she needed to grab his attention. She scratched slowly first, as his back turned away, then with increasing intensity. 

Potter turned around with curiosity and looked at her unchanging face first, then at the source of the noise, and his eyes widened at seeing her hand moving purposely.

"Parkinson?" he tried cautiously.

It felt as if hours passed before Pansy's head moved - a short nod, but enough to get Potter to drop his bag once more.

"You're awake?"

Her head nodded again.

"Did you hear me before?"

Pansy moved a bit more this time, but failed and simply blinked.

It took Potter a moment to try to imagine what she was thinking. "And this time it was all me, not Hermione. I just - I had thought I killed you, Parkinson."

Pansy tilted her head to the side and tried to give him a particular look, like a question, and it took Potter a moment to know what she was asking.

And for his credit, Potter was sharper than he looked, "I think, well, I think we deserve a new start. You need a good grade in potions and I bloody hate how I feel around you. You annoy me, you irritate me, you make me go back to my dorms feeling worse than before. And it's not just who you are; I do feed into whatever it is that's the worst part of you. I'll stop doing that, if you try to. We have to try together, Parkinson. I know - I know what it's like to feel angry all the time. Like the world isn't fair and there's nothing you can do about it. It's enough to drive a person mad."

Pansy remained still for a moment, though she noticed she didn't feel frustrated or annoyed or miserable. Though she was largely immobile and unable to speak, she was able to think logically about Potter.

Slowly, she pointed at him then gave the O.K. symbol with her thumb and index finger. Potter grinned at that.

"And I know I've done this before, but I'm sorry, alright? We're starting new."

Pansy nodded. They stared at each other for a moment, perhaps they were both thinking about the other's intentions, before Pansy meekly pointed at her point eye, then at him. After a second, it seemed to hit Potter what she was asking.

"Oh, this?" he said as he lightly touched his bruised eye. "Right. Hermione refused to fix it, so I'll be sporting an ugly one for a while."

Pansy stared at him and blinked.

"Alright, now you're thinking-" Potter rolled his eyes and throw his bag over his shoulder, "I've already had an ugly one. It's called my face."

Pansy smiled.

And to her surprise, so did Potter.

**October 13th, 1996 (afternoon)**

The next days of slow, magical hearing weren’t much easier than the first couple. Pansy was awake most of the time now, but to control the seizures that came as a side effect of the intense healing that was concentrated to her neck, Madam Pomfrey needed to keep her immobile for hours on end. As a result, she was typically still every time she had visitors. She needed to suffer Granger’s horrendous' long-winded apologies and excuses for Potter's behavior, Greengrass rehashing of the day's gossip, and occasionally one of the boys visiting her. She had been confused about their lack of visiting until Pomfrey's explained that she had banned them from visiting all at once; apparently even a gravely injured friend wasn't enough to quell their pretentious attitudes and behavior.

In all honesty, Pansy couldn't blame her.

"Tilt your head up. Good," Pomfrey guided her wand from Pansy's chin to down to the center of her chest, a bright green appearing briefly on her skin, "Now tilt down. Good,"  she repeated the action, this time tracing the wand from the nape of her neck to between her shoulder blades.

"Well?" Pansy exhaled, sounding more tired than impatient.

"You healed quite nicely, Ms. Parkinson. A broken neck is quite brutish but all seems to be in working order now, thankfully. You'll probably still have a sore throat for the neck week, but you're fit as a fiddle now, dear."

Pansy let out a sigh of relief that quickly turned into a short coughing fit. A sore throat was an understatement. Even her coughs didn't lessen the consistent tickle she felt at the base of her throat.

"That's that then," she said bitterly as she slowly slid off the bed. 

"You have permission to miss the rest of today's classes and tomorrow being Friday perhaps you'd like to skip tomorrow as well and start fresh on Monday-"

"I can't miss a week's worth of my N.E.W.T. classes," Pansy countered. She began shoving the books and notes her classmates dropped off her throughout the week into her bag. "Potions alone will be a nightmare to catch up in..."

"Be that as it may, Ms. Parkinson," Pomfrey bristled, interrupting her train of thoughts. "I recently sent off another young witch to St. Mungo's and I'd rather not send another due to your inability to rest and heal as fully as possible."

After restocking Pansy's supply of pepper-up and invigoration potion, Pomfrey sent Pansy on her way with strict instructions to sleep off the remainder of her discomfort which she begrudging accepted.

**October 13th, 1996 (evening)**

"I'm supposed to be napping."

Pansy yawned and stretched out the tired knots in her body, twisting around on the leather common room sofa as she did so. Though she wasn't actually annoyed by Blaise's interruption, looking up at his smug face was enough for her tired crankiness to push through.

"You've been napping all a week, darling."

"I don't think magically-induced comas can be called napping,  _love_."

"Right," Blaise rolled his eyes as he leaned against the armrest of the love seat behind him. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a curious look. "Can I ask you something?"

"Have I got a choice?" 

Blaise chuckled softly, though he didn't sound happy at all. "It's been... I've just been wondering since the day you fell. When I walked in on you and Theo having a row-"

"We weren't-"

"And I just didn't understand why," he pushed forward, ignoring her interruption. "You two, well, you've never had a reason to fight at all. We were so shaken after your fall that I'd forgotten it for a bit, but it stayed in the back of my mind. I'm not one who easily forgets, you see.

"So I asked Theo," Blaise's face hardened then, his cavalier attitude gone. "And I've got to hand it to you, Parkinson. Theo? That's is cruel. Even for you."

Pansy let out a shaky breath but said nothing as she shifted on the sofa to sit properly.

"First I've got my hands full with Draco's disappearing for hours on end, not talking to any of us, and now I need to be wary of a heartbroken Theo-"

"It was never meant to be-"

"It doesn't matter what you _intended_ ," he snapped. "Not everything is about you, what  _you_ want. He's holding a torch for you for years and you know very well that he'll never really have you the way he wants. So you _will_ stop this, whatever it is. If Draco doesn't want to shag you, don't go on to use Theo."

"Blaise," Pansy said in a low voice, her heart sinking like the anchor that has been holding her down all semester, but he was already beginning to walk away from her. Pansy reached forward and gripped his wrist and repeated urgently, "Blaise. I- I won't... anymore."

He said nothing else but nodded curtly before pulling his wrist away from her and walking away. 

After staying motionless for another moment, Pansy stood and numbly began making her way to the girls' dorm. After that conversation she was beginning to think Madam Pomfrey was right, and taking a few days off to fresh on Monday was a good idea. Once she was back in her room, Pansy took great care to slowly take several healthy sips from the potions on her vanity; one for blemishes, another for contraception, a large gulp of the blackhead potion Mother had given her, and lastly her Draught of Peace.

After a yawn that brought tears to her eyes, Pansy laid her head down to sleep once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneak peek for the next chapter: 
> 
> Daphne,” Pansy said sweetly, her scowl of annoyance melting away as she turned around to face the blonde. “Did you miss breakfast?”
> 
> “Waiting on you, of course,” she answered as if it were obvious. “I saw Blaise and Theo leave without you, so I thought it best we walk together to Charms.”
> 
> “What a wonderful thought,” she said in a drawl.


	9. Pansy Parkinson, the Grand Slytherin Slag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's official: Pansy decided that rather than being _totally_ miserable, she'll make a friend. A girl friend, for once. And Daphne Greengrass is more than happy to fill that role.

**October 16th, 1996 (morning)**

The following Monday Pansy physically felt significantly better than before; the scratchiness in her throat was gone, her neck no longer ached, and she was speaking far more clearly than before. All in all, Madam Pomfrey’s healing worked wonders.

On the other hand, however, after having spent the weekend alone in her room, Pansy’s mood was back to the notoriously low point it had been at the start of the semester. Rather than earn more of Blaise’s ire, she avoided him and Theo at all costs, meanwhile she didn’t even have to try to avoid Draco. The only human contact she had was with Daphne, who accepted Pansy’s excuse of having particularly bad cramps and occasionally brought her meals to the room. When she was alone, Pansy intermittently cried and worked through the backlog of school work that had piled up while she was in the hospital wing.

Now that she was going back to her classes Pansy needed to go through extra steps to avoid her friends. She skipped breakfast in the morning then carefully and intently made a beeline through the common room and aimed for the exit.

“Pansy! Hold up!”

Gritting her teeth, Pansy stopped in her tracks and braced herself as she turned on her heels and greeted Daphne with a small nod. After visiting her in the hospital wing and tending to her over the weekend, the overly excitable blond was under the impression the two girls were fast and close friends. Though she wanted to chide her and find some creative insult to send her on her way, Pansy conceded to the fact that she had been spending far too much time alone and Daphne was better than no one.

“Daphne,” she said sweetly. “Did you miss breakfast?”

“Waiting on you, silly,” she answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Daphne flashed her a dazzling smile and continued, “I saw Blaise and Theo leave without you, so I thought it best we walk together to Charms. You're still recovering, after all.”

“What a wonderful thought,” she said in a drawl. “Well, let’s be off then.”

Daphne clapped her hands together and grinned before sliding her arm into Pansy’s. With a forced smile in return, she nodded and resigned herself to a long walk listening to a dull tale of Daphne’s Hogsmeade trip. It was only after listening to details of searching in vain for a fashionable robe in a particular shade of mauve that Pansy desperately wished she could just be forgiven by the boys and end this torture once and for all. Truth be told, she couldn't tell if Daphne was genuine or not, but the thought of her being Pansy's only willing company was sobering to say the least.

“We stopped at Madam Puddifoot's for a bit of tea after wasting an hour at Twilfitt and Tatting's to no avail. At that point I was at my absolute wit's end. I mean, it was featured in Witch Weekly recently, you'd think this robe would be on the shelves everywhere! Rita Skeeter even wrote about it in Sunday’s-”

“Oh will you look at that! We’re here!” Pansy exclaimed once they reached the third floor classroom. She dropped Daphne’s arm from hers as if it had been on fire and gave the girl one last smile.

“Oh? Well, I’ll catch up with you afterwards-”

She swiftly ducked into the classroom and took the first seat she could find. Letting out a tired breath before placing her school bag on the desk in front of her, Pansy closed her eyes for a moment and attempted to find some peace before-

“You look better.”

Pansy’s back quickly straightened and she finally noticed who she had plopped down next to. Potter gave her an odd look and after a brief glance around the room she realized he wasn’t the only one. In her haste to get away from Daphne, she took an open one next to Potter while ignoring a handful of other seats around the room, making it seem as if she purposefully decided to sit next to him. Her face flushed as her gaze landed on Theo, who was sitting between Blaise and Draco, and she looked away again to avoid the trio’s strange looks.

“My mental state is questionable,” she muttered back, taking a sudden interest in searching through her bag.

“Obviously.”

“Attention, class! Attention now! I hope you all had a relaxing weekend and you’re all caught up to chapter four of our book: non-verbal magic!”

Professor Flitwick managed to quiet down the classroom and immediately jumped into the lesson. Pansy signed thankfully. She was already well-practiced with a number of non-verbal spells, meaning her first day back wouldn’t be as difficult as she feared. Still, she took out a parchment and quill and began copying Flitwick’s lesson word-for-word, anything to distract her from the mess she had gotten herself in.

“Parkinson,” Potter whispered. “You’re taking more notes than Hermione.”

“I have a lot of catching up to do,” she hissed back.

“I’ve seen you do non-verbal magic before,” he countered, sounding almost as if he was teasing her. Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Are you going to let me take notes or are you intent on seeing me fail this year?”

“You won't be failing on my account. I brought you your schoolwork, you-”

“You two back there- oh? Welcome back, Miss Parkinson. You and Mr. Potter had better be paying attention! Nonverbal magic, you see, requires great practice. As you read in your books, some spells are easier to perform nonverbally than others. For example, you may find that defensive spells come more naturally than curses…”

Pansy frowned sharply and glared at Potter, who only shrugged in return, clearly unbothered by being called out. For a few brief moments, they had the quiet attention of the room, and Pansy grew increasingly annoyed by the stares of their classmates.

“Is it my gratitude that you’re looking for?” she hissed. “Well _thank you_ , Harry Potter. You saved the day again.”

“I can’t help it,” he whispered jokingly, “I’m the Chosen One, you see.”

Against her better judgment, Pansy snorted and quickly turned it into a cough when Flitwick looked at them again and clicked his tongue.

“Humble, too.”

Pansy pressed her lips together to keep from laughing again, and in an odd turn of events it was Potter that managed to turn her mood around, if only for an hour.

**October 16th, 1996 (evening)**  

“Buddy buddy with Potter now, are we?”

Draco’s sneer brought Pansy out of her concentration and back to the lively common room around her. Draco’s loomed over her closely, his snarl accented by his sunken eyes and gray skin. It just hit her how much weight he had been losing over the course of the past month and a half, and she wondered if he was experiencing the same despair she was. She had thought it was some kind of teenage irrationality that was affecting her, driving her mad, but if Draco looked just as ill then perhaps it was something more.

“He’s my potions partner,” she retorted angrily, pushing her thoughts of concern away. “You know that.”

“I wasn’t aware that Slughorn required potions partners to laugh it up in Charms class.”

Pansy glared up at him again, mentally threatening herself with acts of physical violence if she should start to break down. She would rather fling herself into the Black Lake than cry in front of Draco.

“Perhaps we were laughing at how pathetic you looked _failing_ at nonverbals.”

“How dare you-”

Just as quickly as Draco brandished his wand, Pansy was on her feet and pointing hers at him as well. She bared her teeth angrily and held her wand so tightly her knuckles turned white, and Draco looked the same. They glared at each other for several tense moments and the common room went silent around them. Pansy felt her wand electrify in her hand, every ounce of strength she had in her body was directed towards her hatred for Draco. Every things he’s ever done against her, every day he spent ignoring her, every time he used her; it all came flooding back to her.

“Alright, alright, you two,” Blaise elbowed his way past the small group of students that had formed around them and wrapped his hand around Draco’s fist, forcing his wand arm down, and glared at Pansy until she did the same. “Grow up, the pair of you. Fighting in the common room? Are you both mad?”

Draco shoved Blaise’s hand away and took a step away from them. “Just keep her away from me.”

Pansy laughed and quickly collected her things from the sofa. “Don’t worry, that won’t be hard to do. Fuck you, Malfoy.”

Ignoring Blaise’s protests and the stares from her housemates, Pansy furiously wiped away her tears and retreated back to her down room.

**October 17th, 1996 (morning)**

In a not-so-sudden change of heart, Pansy decided to allow the lesser of the two evils into her life. For all her faults, at the very least Daphne had one things going for her: she preferred the sound of her own voice above all else, meaning Pansy could spend hours with her at a time and not be expected to contribute a single word. Daphne was a worthwhile companion in two ways; she believed Pansy to truly be her best friend ("Women _always_ bond over trauma, you know. And I was in the Hospital Wing basically every minute of every day!") and she distracted her with ridiculous albeit mundane stories of woe ("And I said her shoes were spectacular and she said mine were _fine_. What does that even mean?"), which ultimately meant Daphne Greengrass was now the least stressful part of her life. After the tense moment with Draco, Pansy convinced herself that she needed to appreciate that, even if it meant listening to endless stories about things she couldn't care less about.

While the girls prepared for their morning classes, Daphne went on and on about a Ravenclaw boy in Herbology she thinks may have a crush on her. Apparently, he is attractive enough but occasionally bites his nails, which is a clear disqualifying factor for her.

“And what’s worse; he never tucks in his shirt. Either he’s a lazy or delightfully devil-may-care. Both have their benefits and drawbacks, of course, and I deserve to be picky. There are so many idiots in this school, it would be dastardly should I end up with one.”

“I agree,” Pansy said as she rolled her school socks up to her knees and began slipping on her Mary Janes. “Dastardly.”

“Are you interested in anyone?” she asked innocently, pausing to give Pansy an opportunity to speak for the first time that morning.

“Absolutely not,” she answered in a bored voice, looking in the mirror once more before collecting her school bag. “They’re all fairly worthless, you know. Anyway, are you ready?”

Daphne nodded and hummed and the two girls set off together for the Great Hall. Pansy didn’t mind if this became a habit; spending the morning together and strutting the halls arm-in-arm to their first class together. Tuesday mornings was always Transfiguration (which Daphne confessed she was horrendously lost in), then they had a double period of Divination. Truth be told, chronic fatigue, nausea, and general misery were easier to ignore when Daphne spun one of her ridiculously long tales about attempting to match a silk choker with suede boots.

“You’re not hungry, are you? Pansy said suddenly, guiding Daphne away from the path to the Great Hall and interrupting a story about Bulstrode leaving her dandruff-infested brush on her duvet cover. “I’d rather go straight to class. And that way we can practice the Bird-Conjuring Charm as well. My wand keeps bloody chirping, but not much else.”

Per usual, Daphne agreed and Pansy let out a mental sigh of relief. Thus far her avoidance campaign was working swimmingly, but that all fell apart if she was forced to sit near the boys for a half an hour, especially after last night.

Unfortunately it seemed as if Pansy wasn't the only person with the idea, and her heart immediately sank when they walked into class early and Theo was already there. She tightened her arm around Daphne's and lead her towards the front of the classroom, her steely focus never leaving the empty seats that were the furthest from Theo. For seventeen long, painful minutes, Pansy let Daphne continue her tirade against Bulstrode and the dandruff that was apparently suffocating her and polluting her air. She supplemented their conversation with occasional nods, touching Daphne’s hand understandingly, as well as a handful of and _aha’s_ and _hmph’s_ , but otherwise she remained silent and tried to ignore Theo’s stare as the room slowly filled with other students.

The rest of the class period went by just as slowly, though Pansy felt as if her body was in a whirlwind. It took everything in her to focus on the brisk, overly informative lecture McGonagall was putting them through. Luckily there was no actual wandwork during the entire period, thus giving Pansy some semblance of a break, and she doubted her concentration would be strong enough to meet the needs of the _Avis_ charm.

When class was finally over, Pansy barely gave Daphne enough time to pack her things before she had her wrist in her hand and pulled her behind her, and they were out of the classroom before McGonagall finished her farewell. Much to Daphne’s confusion, Pansy made a mad dash to the closest girls’ bathroom and slammed the door behind them.

“Be a dear and watch that door,” she choked out as she dropped her back and ran for the stalls.

For the next few minutes the girls’ lavatory was filled with sounds of Pansy’s heaving and Daphne trying to best to rudely shoo people away from the door. She used every excuse under the sun to discourage girls from entering; from insulting their hygiene to claiming a troll had taken up residence in one of the stalls.

Once Pansy was finished, she staggered out to the sinks and blinked away the tears had been flowing freely down her face. She spent several minute washing her face and swishing water around her mouth before her hyperventilation had completely subsided and she finally turned to Daphne.

“Well,” she exhaled shakily, “That was unfortunate.”

“Pansy,” Daphne sounded concerned, though uncertain, as she picked up both girls’ bags and walked over to her. “Are you- are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m quite alright, thank you,” she answered, waving away her concerns. “I didn’t eat breakfast so nothing really came out, anyway. Thank Merlin for small favors.”

Daphne frowned, clearly not satisfied with Pansy’s glib attitude.

“Are you pregnant?”

Pansy, in uncharacteristic fashion, was taken aback and sputtered through her response.

“Wha- what? No. Absolutely not,” she exclaimed, “Gods, Daphne, that’s a leap.”

“Well,” she shrugged coyly, “You’re avoiding Malfoy and you’re really tired lately, and now the vomiting. My cousin got pregnant last Spring and she was practically the same.”

“No, I’m-” Pansy stopped herself suddenly, and sincerely considered what Daphne was telling her. She supposed it all made sense; all she wanted to do these days was sleep, she was constantly nauseous, and her mood was almost painfully sour. But still, it just didn’t make sense. “I take potions, Daphne. And… and avoiding Draco has nothing to do with this,” she gestured towards the stall. “He hasn’t been himself.”

“I’ve realized that too.”

Pansy looked at her curiously, wondering what exactly Daphne was noticing. According to her mother, her younger sister may be betrothed to him soon, so she had to assume that Daphne had some kind of information Pansy wasn’t privy to.

_But I don’t care,_ she told herself, and briefly she believed it. Her heart sank once more, however, because if she was pregnant perhaps it could be Draco's and he would be forced to speak to her and Narcissa would insist they be married then he’d finally be hers and she would never have to worry about being without him again and they would be-

“Stop it,” she said out lout, leaning against the sink when a bout of dizziness hit her.

“What?” Daphne asked, stepping forward to steady her. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Not... not you,” Pansy exhaled, her chest heaving. “I- I need to sit. I need- I- I don’t know what wrong with me.”

Daphne guided Pansy to the floor and the two girls stayed that way throughout the entirety of double Divination; Pansy sobbing and dry heaving, and Daphne holding her through her confusion.

**October 18th, 1996 (afternoon)**

“Parkinson.”

“Potter.”

They greeted each other with an odd amount of cordiality as they reached their assigned table at the same time. Potions was never a walk in the park, but after their public non-hatred in Charms and her row with Draco, Pansy felt far more tense than usual. Daphne had insisted on walking Pansy to almost every class they didn't have together since her fit in the bathroom (after which she forced her to down an entire chocolate bar) and she did feel well enough to handle whatever was going to be thrown at her now. The stares, Slughorn, even Harry Potter himself.

“He’s going to ask us about the potion.”

Pansy’s gaze immediately whipped back to Potter, her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “What?”

“I asked him for an extension since you were, ah,” he cleared his throat, “otherwise indisposed.”

“You mean slowly and painfully healing after you pushed me down a flight of stairs?” she raised a pointed eyebrow, pressing her lips together to hold back a smirk.

“How many times do I have to apologize for that, Parkinson?”

“Oh, oh, no, my neck,” she gasped in faux pain and raised her hands to grip the nape of her neck, “Oh, the _pain_ -”

“Alright, I get it!” he hissed, then shook his head. “Sorry, sorry, sorry again. Jesus, how many times has Malfoy apologized?”

Pansy frowned sharply then turned away from him to retrieve the things she needed from her bag. She had her book, parchment, an ink glass, and two quills out before Potter spoke again.

“He hasn’t, has he?”

Pansy said nothing and began to organize the items on her desk - parchment straight  and crisp, quills right next to it, the ink glass towards the front, her textbook-

“Parkinson.”

“ _Alright_ ,” she spat. “Apologies aren’t exactly Draco’s thing.”

It was Potter’s turn to remain quiet and before she could continue, Slughorn called the class to attention.

“Quiet now, class! Quiet now! I expected each and every one of you to read the chapter concerning Golpalott’s Third Law over the weekend, quite the interesting law indeed. It may be a bit hard to wrap your heads around but essentially- ah! Miss Parkinson! Welcome back, and I hope you’re feeling better after your time away.”

Pansy gritted her teeth in annoyance. Leave it to Slughorn to bring more attention to her than necessary. She purposefully ignored the whispers from around the class and tried not to notice Theo staring at her, and Draco purposefully looking directly away.

“Yes, Professor, I am. It was quite a lovely holiday.”

Beside her Potter coughed quietly and held his fist over his mouth as he became overly interested in his nails.

“R-right. Now, I promised Mr. Potter to wait until you returned to ask for the potion you will be perfecting over the course of the-”

“Elixir to Induce Euphoria,” she interrupted him, straightening her back and folding her hands together on the table in front of her. She looked straight at the professor as Potter slowly turned his confused gaze to her.

“Well that’s a particularly advanced potion to perfect-”

“You said yourself, Professor,” she looked at Potter with a sardonically sweet smile, “Mr. Potter is a natural master potioneer.”

Slughorn let out a hearty laugh and pointed affectionately at Potter. “That is right, Miss Parkinson. You lucked out on this young man, I’ll tell you that. Now, Golpalott’s Third Law-”

“Seriously?” he whispered

“I hope you’re ready for some long, tired nights in the library, Potter. You owe me.”

“I’m taking back at least four of my apologies now.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Pansy smirked knowingly as she dipped her quill into ink and prepared to take notes, “I already have your eternal, never-ending remorse.”

Potter grumbled something inaudible but said nothing else, and Pansy smirked wider knowing she had won.

**October 19th, 1996 (evening)**

Pansy left her last class of the day feeling far lonelier than she had for the past couple days. Just when she was starting to welcome and appreciate Daphne’s presence, the bubbly blonde was nowhere to be seen. While Daphne had initially made the habit of meeting her several times a day in the corridors if they didn't have classes together, now Pansy went through three periods without seeing her unlikely friend at all. And she missed the bloody witch, as implausible as it seemed. What’s more, she was actually worried. It wasn’t like Daphne to disappear without a trace.

Rather than heading towards the Great Hall for dinner, Pansy searched the dungeons for Daphne. Then she searched the corridors around the kitchens. Then she searched the library. Then the Astronomy Tower.

No where.

With a tired sigh, she walked down the Grand Staircase to attempt to salvage a few minutes of dinner. The moment she gave up, however, she heard the soft sounds of sobs coming of an alcove she hadn’t passed before. It was a wild chance, but if Daphne was nowhere else then maybe Pansy’s own mood was rubbing her and she was off having a nice cry.

“Daphne?” she called out, slowly making her way around the corner.

The crying suddenly stopped for a second, only to be replaced by sporadic sniffles.

“P- Pansy?”

She finally rounded the corner and came face to face to Daphne on the floor, her knees brought up to hid her face. She was a long, slender confident girl, and seeing her in such position was heartbreaking.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, n- nothing. You know, just-” Daphne cut herself off with another round of sobs and Pansy sighed as she walked up to her until she was standing at her feet. She leaned down slightly and placed her hand on her head then scratched the top of her head softly.

“Daphne, love,” she said softly, a voice she had never used with any of her friends before. “Why are you crying?”

“Oh, _boys_ , you know,” she sniffled. “They’re all _idiots_.”

Pansy nodded. “Terribly so.”

“Exactly,” Daphne chuckled through her hiccups. “Bloody idiots. I bet that’s why they keep us apart, in the dorms, I mean. With the magical staircases. Because they would dumb us all down with their stupidity.”

She laughed and held out her hand for Daphne to grasp. After she pulled her up, Pansy put her arm around the taller girls’ waist and held her as they slowly walked towards the Grand Staircase.

“Actually,” she thought suddenly, “It only goes one way. We can go up the boys’ stairs, but they can’t use ours.”

“Really?” Daphne said in a surprised tone as she wiped her face. “How do know that?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never heard the ‘Pansy Parkinson, the Grand Slytherin Slag’ rumors before,” Pansy laughed bitterly.

“I have,” she responded matter-of-factly, “I just assumed they were greatly exaggerated.

Pansy smiled slightly in response, a genuine smile though she couldn’t quite understand Daphne’s kindness. As a Slytherin, she could have taken advantage at that moment. Instead, either she was holding back or she was hardly a Slytherin at all, at least not in the way Pansy understood it.

“Well, you’re not wrong. Some people take pleasure in- _Potter_.”

She stopped herself short as they turned the corner and nearly ran head first into Harry Potter. He looked equally as surprised to see them, and tucked away an extremely wrinkled parchment into his school bag before he spoke.

“Parkinson. Hello.”

“Potter,” Daphne repeated after her, though she overcame her surprise enough to sneer.

“Ah, I interrupted a training session, I see,” he glanced at Daphne briefly. “Greengrass, right? Are you doing tutoring sessions now, Parkinson?”

“Kindness is in my blood, Potter,” she sniffed haughtily. “Later I’ll try to help you a tad and introduce you to a comb.”

Daphne laughed, slightly too loud, but Pansy smiled any way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneak peek for the next chapter:
> 
> “Who’s there?”  
> It took all of her strength not to jump directly out of her skin when she heard a familiar voice behind her. Leave it to Potter to interrupt her tear-filled pity party.  
> “Potter?” she called back.  
> “Parkinson?”  
> “No,” she rolled her bloodshot eyes and sniffed, “It’s the Minister of Magic.”


	10. Harry Potter is a Happy Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy is depressed... again and surprising enough Potter does the most Potter-like thing he could do and comes to the recuse. But honestly, alcohol is the real hero here.

**October 20th, 1996 (evening)**

It was no surprise that Slytherin looked to take advantage of any opportunity to host a party of some sort or another and Quidditch season typically offered more than enough to satisfy their needs, in addition to a host of other fabricated annual celebrations. The first party of the year was one that Pansy almost always looked forward to it, but this time around she felt suffocated in the common room. Since her first year, and for years before that, the Slytherin Quidditch team celebrated their first win of the season with a debaucherous party for all their house mates - though those below the fourth year were only allowed to stay until 9 pm. It was a highlight to the first half of the semester, something that got students through the difficult mid-semester slump.

Particularly after Draco joined the team (and in her second year he still seemed like her knight in shining armor) Pansy used the Quidditch party of the year to shine her grace to the House and quickly established herself as a cornerstone of the Slytherin elite. It all seemed so ridiculous in hindsight.

This year she felt an intense need to escape. They were all looking at her, meanwhile they continued to whisper and avoid her. The music, the laughter, the drinking, everything about the party made her feel sick. Draco also seemed tired and quiet, but as team captain he was flanked on each side by admirers. Meanwhile, Pansy was alone. Though she was sitting in the middle of a group of overly excited talkative sixth year girls - including Daphne, though she frequently shot her apologetic glances whenever she noticed her friends' silence - she still felt far, far away. 

And she needed to get far, far away.

Ignoring the curious glances and the odd shout or two, Pansy quickly lifted herself from her seat and set her gaze to the common room entrance. If she went to her bed, she wouldn’t be left alone and she would never live it down.

Instead, Pansy blindly wandered out of the dungeons and climbed up the moving stairs that nearly killed her.

The halls were silent after hours, but with her Prefect badge she was able to travel the empty halls with no worries. She was free to worry about other things instead and it all felt like too much. She didn't have Daphne to distract her; not that she blamed the blonde for staying behind, however without her voice Pansy was reminded of her own mounting issues. She didn’t have Draco or Blaise, and she forced herself away from Theo. She also couldn’t blame Blaise; he was right, after all. Draco wasn’t well, she wasn’t much better, and Theo has never been like them in their stubborn need to suffer alone. Stoic, sure. A self-preservationist, obviously. But otherwise, he had always looked towards them to lead rather than trail-blaze. He was intelligent but quietly caring, and if she, Draco, and Blaise hadn’t enveloped him into their group after he received an especially bad hazing from Marcus Flint then the Slyterin House wouldn’t have treated him kindly.

And they needed Theo, so they were careful never to abuse him. Whether they realized it consciously or not, they coddled Theo’s sensitivities over the years because they needed him to gravitate them away from cruelty, particularly against those within their own house. He gave them logical reasons, naturally. He put things into perspective and vocalized the obvious priorities. And with him, they rose to the top. His worries at the start of the year were legitimate. Draco seemed like a lost cause and Pansy-

Well…

She sighed slowly and only then realized she had reached the Astronomy Tower with tears streaming down her face. Though these days crying wasn’t entirely surprising, she looked around at her surroundings with mild amusement. Other during than her nighttime N.E.W.T classes, Pansy rarely looked at the stars.

Pansy cautiously approached the balcony and wrapped her thin arms around her midsection to attempt to shield herself from the increasingly frigid October winds. Once Halloween passed, wandering the castle and grounds with just a jumper, her school skirt, and knee high socks would be deadly. Still, for now the cold air gave Pansy some release from the heat on her flushed cheeks. She leaned against the railing and looked over the grounds and the Forbidden Forest while unashamedly sobbing. At this rate her tears were so common that she would almost find them boring if their frequency wasn’t also confusing. Most of the time she had no good excuse for her depression. All she could do was cry, fight through her sadness, and go on with her life. She needed to fight through _whatever_ this was just to live with herself on a daily basis. The only distractions she had were her classes, Daphne, and oddly enough-

“Who’s there?”

It took all of her strength not to jump directly out of her skin when she heard a familiar voice behind her. Leave it to Potter to introduce a perfectly timed interruption to her tear-filled pity party.

“Potter?” she called back.

“Parkinson?”

“No,” she rolled her bloodshot eyes and sniffed, “It’s the Minister of Magic.”

“Ha. Ha.”

Potter came forward from the shadows and the look for joking annoyance on his face was obvious. He looked tired, however, and in his hand he was gripping a nearly full bottle of alcohol.

“Got a fun night planned?” she said, nodding towards the bottle.

Potter sighed and leaned against the wall in front of her as he twisted the cap and took a long swig. He grimaced slightly and Pansy chuckled at his inexperience as she wiped the tears on her face before turning fully to Potter. To her dismay, he had his signature Potter pitying face on.

“Don’t worry. You’re not the first witch I’ve seen crying tonight.”

“You just have that effect on girls, do you?”

Potter laughed and slid down to the floor then stretched his legs out in front of him.

“Well,” he cleared his throat and held the bottle up for her, “I suppose it wouldn't be a shame if you joined me."

"Potter," she said slowly as she crossed her arms over her chest and began to slaunter over to him, "I have a feeling that the  _courteous_ _and cordial_ doesn't really work for us."

"And is that..." he trailed off for a moment as he took another gulp from his bottle, "a new feeling...or?"

Pansy stared at him for a long, silent minute, trapped between wanting to laugh and wanting to slink back to the dungeons to continue her wallowing, before making up her mind and plopping herself down next to him.  Her teeth clenched slightly as her arse hit the cold, stone floor, but she quickly ignored it as she snatched the firewhisky from him.

She lifted the bottle and before taking a long gulp she said sarcastically, “To the Boy Who Lived.”

**October 21, 1996 (early, early morning)**

“Draco, obviously. After the Yule Ball.”

Potter clicked his tongue and nodded, though he didn’t look surprised. He took a swig from the bottle, already expecting Pansy’s follow-up question. They moved on from silently and sadly drinking to asking each other increasingly personal questions, as these things typically go. It started with simple things like where they had grown up, favorite foods, least class professors but then the questions escalated in intensity with each subsequent gulp from the bottle. Pansy now knew about Potter's childhood crush, and he knew which room in her house she had first masturbated, and she knew the first person he wished death upon, and he knew where she was when her father died.

However the story of how Pansy lost her virginity was hardly a surprising one, and that was clear by the look on Potter’s face, though he did look a bit disappointed. 

“My first time was around Christmas too,” he admitted, “Cho Chang. Last year.”

“Ah. You’ve got a thing for overly emotional Asian girls, then?” she teased, snatching the bottle from him and stealing a quick gulp. It was probably a mistake, as she was becoming much more intoxicated than Potter due to the nature of her size.

Potter laughed - and he didn’t stop. He held his side and tilted towards the ground as he uncontrollably let out his laughter. Pansy rolled her eyes and giggled - and hiccupped - as she took another sip from the firewhisky and watched him with amusement. Potter, drunk or sober, had no control over his emotions. When he was upset, he was _angry_ . When he was regretful, he _wallowed_ . And when he was happy, he was _giddy._

Now, with a stomach full of firewhisky and after spending more than two hours with her, he was giddy to a ridiculous degree.

Potter clearly needed to get drunk more often.

“It wasn’t that bloody funny,” she grumbled, though she couldn’t stop giggling either. “Oh, come on, Potter. _Stop it._ Good Merlin..."

“I refuse,” he answered, taking several deep breaths to calm himself though he was still chuckling. “I’ve had a shit of a day and I want to have a laugh, even if it’s with Pansy Parkinson.”

“Thanks,” she rolled her eyes.

“Christ, just take the compliment,” Potter sighed with a grin on his face, and took the the bottle from her. “Once I’ve got a couple drinks in me you’re far easier to like, you know.”

“Am I now?” she raised an eyebrow and watched and Potter took a large swig from the bottle. “Why exactly are you getting drunk with a Slytherin instead of grieving Hufflepuff's loss with the rest of the Gryffindors?”

Just as Potter lifted the bottle again to take another he stopped in his tracked and gave Pansy a humorless expression. It hit her that had he been alone, he would have sadly drunk from his bottle, instead of distracting himself with her.

“I think my best friend is in love with my other best friend,” he sighed, looking straight ahead at the wall instead of at her, “but he’s off with another girl. And I think I have feelings for his sister. But she’s off with another bloke. Last Spring the last of my family died and I couldn't do anything about it. Everyone expected so much from me and I just... ”

Pansy watched Potter carefully as he spoke, his eyes becoming increasingly sadder with each word before he trailed off, gripping the whiskey bottle. It was a far cry from the laughing drunk boy she had rolled her eyes at before. While it was heartening to know that the Golden Trio could suffer just as much as her miserable group of cold-hearted companions, it was depressing to see a drunken Potter in this position.

“Oh, don’t be pathetic,” she scoffed, stealing the bottle from him and taking a deep swig. “If you start crying, I’ll get up and walk away, Potter. And you don’t want that because I have been known to take off my shirt after I’ve had a few.”

Potter stared at her for a moment incredulously, and she briefly wondered if he had expected a prize for opening himself up to her. The thought made her laugh but before she could comment he chuckled again and shook his head, apparently realizing whatever retort he had in store for her wasn't worth it.

“God, I hate you,” he laughed and took the bottle back from her to take a drink.

"My goodness," she shook her head, though she was glad her callousness hadn't ruined the mood entirely. "With a life like yours who knew Harry Potter was such a happy drunk?

"Small pleasures, Parkinson, it's about the small pleasures. Now, ah," he thought silently for a moment then leaned back against the wall. "Ah... a vice you wish you could quit."

"Gambling is quite popular in my house, and I admit I can get taken away with it as well," she shrugged, digging her index nail into her thumb. She had wanted to say Draco, but there was no way to sanely explain an addiction to someone you disliked so much. "Summer or winter?"

"Winter," he answered smoothly, "Favorite tea."

"Pu-erh tea; it's a fermented variety produced in the Yunnan province in China," she explained matter-of-factly. 

"You're quite pretentious, you know that?" Potter quipped, shaking his head as he drank form the bottle then passed it to her.

"Yes," she responded, then pausing to hold back her smirk as she drank from the bottle. "Your favorite part of a woman. Physically."

"Her arse," he said immediately, and easily the fastest answer he gave all night. "What's your-"

"You answered that rather quickly," she joked, stealing another sip from the bottle before passing it off to him. 

"There's nothing quite like a nice, soft, grippable, shapely-"

"For fuck's sake, Potter," Pansy laughed and tossed her head back. "I  _get it._ "

“There’s nothing-” he stopped himself before giving her a once over and sharing his own smirk, “I think you have a nice arse.”

“I think you’re drunk,” she retorted with a little snort, ignoring the way the room spun around her as she reached for the bottle once more. After a sloppy swig, she placed it on the ground and laid down with a grunt next to it.

“Maybe,” he said, “But the girl I fancy is with someone else… and you have a nice arse.”

Now Pansy allowed herself to smirk in satisfaction and turned her head to the side and looked at him.

“So, second best?” she asked sarcastically, while she told herself that she wouldn't care either way.

“Or third,” he shrugged, then drunkenly chuckled, “or fourth, or fifth…”

Pansy scowled, “Potter, with your propensity towards malice I do believe you would have made a marvelous Slytherin.”

“Isn’t that our thing?” he laughed twisting his body around so he could lay against the cold stone floor with her. “Who can say the meanest, most hurtful comment after receiving a mean, hurtful comment?”

“We have a thing?” she asked curiously, trying to arch her eyebrow but instead she stared at the way Potter’s face seemed to whirl in circles next to her.

“I guess we do, but it's largely because your refusal to be remotely polite for more than, oh, thirty seconds,” his eyes looking equally unfocused as he spoke. 

"I can be polite when I want to," she responded defensively, then paused to hiccup. Pansy tried to focus on his eyes for a moment but failed and instead looked at his dopey, croaked, drunken grin. “Like... you have really, very green eyes.”

Potter didn't speak for what felt like ages, then he rolled his eyes. "Saying something that isn't an overt insult isn't the same thing as paying someone a compliment, Parkinson."

"Oh, fuck it, I tried," she scoffed, then with much difficultly she hauled herself to her feet. Pansy took uneasy steps back until she hit the wall to steady herself. "Bad... _bad_ idea."

Below her Potter was grunting as he tried and failed to get on his feet as well. Eventually he settled on plopping back down and swaying slightly. Pansy giggled at the sight of him, and luckily she was too far gone to hate the sound like she usually did. Potter groaned in annoyance and slowly tried again to stand, this time making a feeble effort to use the wall as a support. "This is harder than I imagined it would be."

"Hurry up, C-chosen One," Pansy hiccuped as she made her way towards the exit. "You're making a mockery of the curfew."

"Who cares?" he slurred, grinning again as he successfully stood and began to follow her to the threshold. "I'm Harry Potter, you know."

Before Pansy could respond with another incredulous snicker, Potter continued. “Same time tomorrow?”

"What?" she held out her hand to step herself on the doorway, both taken aback by his suddenness and woefully drunk. 

He didn't answer her and instead they shared a look for what seemed like an eternity in her drunken state, though in reality it was likely only a second or two, then she nodded curtly. He cleared his throat in response and grinned as he picked up the pitiful remainder of his firewhisky.

"But I won't be drinking that shit again," she gestured at the bottle. "Any bottle worth less than 25 galleons is like downing pure vinegar."

"Un- _hic_ -believable," he shook he head as he dragged his feet past her, slowly taking a wrinkled parchment out of his pocket. He paused to give her an absurd half-grin before descending the staircase ahead of her. As she waited for him to disappear from her voice, she could hear him call out, "Pansy Parkinson, you're unbelievable."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneak peek for the next chapter:
> 
> "Your sister," she started slowly, though she hardly needed to finish her sentence once she noted the look on her friends' face. "Are you advising me or making sure your sister has no competition?"
> 
> "Neither," she answered in a nervous whisper. "Pansy... oh, stop that. Come here."


	11. I Hear He's Well Hung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her first good date in years, in a surprising turn of events, she's blonde, beautiful, and bubbly. As her friendship with Daphne mellows her out, Pansy finds that the idea of meeting with Potter again is heating her up. It's just the alcohol and mutual feeling of isolation, right? _Right?_

**October 21st, 1996 (morning)**

If there was ever a Slytherin that should have been in Hufflepuff, her name is Daphne Greengrass. As though her generally trusting and optimistic disposition wasn’t enough, her level of excitement over the simplest things was comparable to that of a recently freed House-elf.

Case in point, at nine am on a Saturday morning, Pansy was startled awake by a bouncing, shrieking, bubbly blonde pouncing on her bed and straddling her body. The smell of apricots and overall sense of jubilation was enough for her to realize who it was and what was happening, however that did nothing to held the hangover that slammed into her body even harder than Daphne did.

“Today’s the day!” her voice came before Pansy had the chance to open her eyes. “It’s today! It’s today!”

Pansy groaned and tried to turn over but Daphne’s legs were locked around her waist and her hands were placed squarely on her shoulders. She could feel her friends’ excitement vibrating through her body and from the sound her of voice and dialect – which sounded like the mixture of Scottish and Northern England that she inherited from her parents – but Pansy couldn’t mimic even the tiniest bit of her happiness. Her throat felt as if it was on fire and her head was pounding from the inside out. She wanted nothing more than to crawl beneath her covers and die.

“Daphne,” she finally croaked. “I swear, I’ll rip that pretty little face of yours straight off.”

Daphne merely giggled as if they shared an inside joke then moved to lie beside Pansy on her small twin-sized bed. Throwing her arm over Pansy’s tinier body, Daphne began to lay out the plans that she single-handedly scheduled for their day. She ardently explained that their day would start with a light breakfast, then they would roam Hogsmeade and shop for their outfits for the evening, then she took the liberty of putting both their names down for a hair and nails appointment, lastly they would have just enough time before dinner to find the perfect matching jewelry for the party that was scheduled for later in the evening. Pansy stared at Daphne blankly as she outlined her day for her, internally wishing she could just sink into her mattress. 

"This level of excitement is not normal for a sixteen-year-old, Greengrass," she groaned after a moment of silence. She pulled herself up until she was sitting against the backboard of her bed. With a sigh, crossed her legs in front of her as Daphne shifted to sit cross-legged beside her. "How are you  _this_ happy?"

"We're going to Hogsmeade, you numpty!" she clapped her hands together. "We need to get our dresses for the party tonight! There'll be sweets and treats and dancing and-"

"I get it," Pansy held up her hands then let her hands fall into them.

Honestly, she had forgotten.

Common room parties aside, the Slytherin house had a bad habit of weekend-long festivities on a regular basis to celebrate even the most insignificant event. Friday night was for Quidditch, and now yet another thing came up. As she attempted to grapple with her uphill battle of a hangover, Pansy recalled the year before and the first proper soiree of the year was the Quarter Moon Affair. 

A completely fabricated event that gave the older students an excuse to primp and peen and spruce themselves up, only to fall into heaps of drunken messes by 2 am. Pansy had spent weeks looking forward to it last year - her first time enjoying such an event - but in light of yesterday, she doubted she would be able to stand it.

But on top of it all, her thoughts brought her back to last night with Potter. They had been civil. Even more abnormally, they had actually had  _fun_. While she easily blamed the firewhisky, in the sober light of day she couldn't help but to consider his offer to meet again. Unexpectedly bumping into him was one thing, actually making plans to repeat their night of drunken camaraderie was just unimaginable. The idea itself was odd but the thought of going out and spending the night partying with Daphne and the rest of her house mates was even more unsettling after she had literally run away from them the night before.

"Pansy?"

Daphne's light voice cut through her thoughts just as she felt herself start to lose herself in her own wallowing.

"So- sorry," she exhaled and lifted her face from her hands. "Just a headache. You're right! Sweets and treats, I'm all for that."

Pansy barely finished her sentence before Daphne launched herself off the bed and twirled in front of her. She forced herself to pay attention to the overly-charged blonde, though it was largely for the sake of her own sanity. There was a reason why Daphne was such an addicting personality for her. She was overbearing and intrusive, but she was the perfect distraction from Pansy's usually bleak thoughts.

And she was genuine in who she is, kind and loyal, and perhaps a bit too sensitive but she was able to harden herself if she needed to. 

"-thinking silver and purple with glitter but then I thought I should probably go with something more mature for the night, like midnight blue or a dark violet-"

"Alright, Daphne," Pansy interrupted her as she slowly pushed herself off the bed. "We have an entire day of shopping ahead of us. I'm sure you'll find something lovely-"

" _Sexy_ ," Daphne interrupted with an arched eyebrow, then threw her arms over Pansy's slouching shoulders. "I'm going to do it tonight. You know, ha- have sex."

Though Pansy wasn't intimately aware of Daphne's sexual history, she had more or less assumed that a witch as good-looking as her - tall, blonde, and curvy in the best places - would have crossed that bridge already, but then again she wasn't entirely surprised. To someone like Daphne, thinking about getting that close to someone must have been more daunting than it had been for Pansy. She had had the benefit of believing she was in love with Draco, and she wanted to tie him to her in some way. In hindsight that night had been the beginning of the end for them, and in an odd way Pansy wanted to shield Daphne from such an experience.

"With who?" she finally asked.

Daphne shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. Vaisey, maybe? Or Harper. I like Quidditch players. I think."

Pansy pressed her lips together to hold back a smirk. She was almost humorously naïve.

"You don't want to settle just to get it over with," she warned.

"I know," she sighed. "But, well, I've been betrothed to Marcus Flint for so long now and I'm worried he'll be the first."

"I'm sure he won't, but it doesn't necessarily have to happen tonight."

"It'll have to happen soon. I'll die a virgin at this rate."

"I highly doubt that," Pansy laughed, taking a step back until Daphne's hands fell from her shoulders. "Look at you."

"Alright, but even worse; Marcus may end up being my first."

"Well," Pansy smirked and took Daphne's hand as she began walking towards the bathroom. "I hear he's well hung."

Rather than answer, Daphne threw her head back and let out a sharp laugh, then a slow groan, then another laugh after Pansy shook her eyebrows at her. For the moment at least, her friend forgot about attempting to shag a Quidditch player before the night was over.

**October 21, 1996 (late afternoon)**

"You could have tried something different, you know! Something more new and spectacular."

"I like my hair this way," Pansy frowned, trying to not sound defensive as she let her finger tips graze past the tips of her shoulder-length bob. "Short hair shapes my face."

Daphne shrugged but she looked unconvinced. As the pair strolled down the main street of Hogsmeade, with freshly manicured nails and styled hair, they chatted casually about their day. Pansy had elected to leave her hair its natural black color, while Daphne added a textured highlight to her light, blond hair. Her long, thick hair reached her mid-back and was curled to perfection. The witches at the salon nearly tripped over themselves to assist her, though Daphne still insisted to Pansy they were merely trying to impress her instead. 

"Anyway, tonight isn't about me," Pansy reminded her, though she omitted the fact that she was still largely on the fence about it all. Though she just spent dozens of galleons on her hair, nails, and clothing that she didn't really need, none of that was enough to convince her that going out with the rest of the older students from her house was the right way to go. The benefit of being with Daphne is she didn't think anything of the rumors; she was an unadulterated, unshakable ally. While it was impossible for Pansy to ignore the whispers of her being pregnant, being heartsick over Draco, or just faking for attention, the worst part of it all is that she could no long ignore whatever symptoms have continuously befallen her throughout the semester because everyone else noticed. They noticed her tired eyes, her thinning face, and her lack of appetite. By spending all of her time with Daphne, she had more of a shield for her impossible upset stomach, her frequent tears, and her terrible mood swings, and without her Pansy would be alone.

Especially without Blaise or Theo. She needed  _someone_.

And Daphne - in maybe ways she was better than the both of them.

"I wouldn't say it's  _about_ me," Daphne blushed. "I mean, I haven't got much of plan. Hopefully someone will just- just  _notice_ me, right? I think- I think that's how it works."

"Daphne-" Pansy started with a chuckle then paused before continuing, though the hesitation lasted longer than she expected it to.

As they walked past Honeydukes and at that moment her eyes landed on Potter and his two extra appendages. Wealsey looked to be in the middle of a moronic story, one that Granger was rolling her eyes at, but Potter was mid-laugh as he sucked on a licorice wand but he paused when their eyes met. For what seemed like an eternity, they strolled past each other with their gazes locked until finally Pansy find herself and she did just about the simplest message she could muster-

She winked.

In the two seconds that was the entirety of her pause, she glanced at Potter and shot him a wink that she was certain only he caught - especially since Granger's eyes were steeled on Weasley and the red-head was far too into his own recounting to notice. Potter, however,  _noticed_. He noticed enough to do a slight double-take, and immediately Pansy she would be at the forefront of his mind. More importantly, she knew he would be at the Astronomy Tower later tonight. His curiosity was piqued and she knew him well enough to know that he didn't want to come off as cowardly.

"-nothing works exactly how you think it will," Pansy continued after a soft chuckle. "Boys... well, they're- they're idiots, frankly."

"Surely not all of them-"

"No," she held up her hand, "they are. I mean, there are smart ones, sure, and they all have their strengths and talents. But when it comes to matters of the cock-"

"Oh my-"

"-they quickly become the simplest, most moronic creatures you could possibly imagine. Honestly, you've got tits and that's about everything for most blokes."

"Or perhaps," Daphne interjected, raising a finger to make her point as they turned the corner and began walking towards the jewelry shop. "You've been disappointed one too many times. Clearly Draco Malfoy isn't-"

" _Shh_ ," Pansy hissed with furrowed eyebrows as she checked over her shoulders though there wasn't a single Hogwarts student around them now.

"I mean," the blonde cleared her throat, "You're fierce and ambitious and intelligent. Maybe a little  _too_ intense, but it suits you, darling. And _you-know-who_ needs someone more... docile. More pliable to bend to his needs."

Pansy was just short of mentioning that she and Draco had officially ended their experiment with romance during their fifth year, but she stopped herself short as they reached the jewelry shop and another thought hit her. Before Daphne could reach for the door, Pansy planted her hand flatly on it to keep it shut, her eyebrow arched with curiosity. 

"Your sister," she started slowly, though she hardly needed to finish her sentence once she noted the look on her friends' face. "Are you advising _me_ or making sure your sister has no competition?"

"Neither," she answered in a nervous whisper. "Pansy... oh, stop that. Come here."

Daphne pulled her hand off the door then swung it open, only to grip her wrist then drag her to an unoccupied corner of the medium-sized shop. Pansy's gaze briefly glanced around the glittery, glitzy gems and jeweled ornaments - from bracelets and chains to tiaras and studded masks - before turning her attention back to Daphne.

"The papers are already signed," Daphne sighed. "Our mothers met two weeks ago. Astoria and Draco will be married when she turns seventeen. They're waiting to announce until next summer. They're going to make a big show of it, you know how they do. Banquets and luncheons and galas. It'll be quite a celebration for my family - marrying up and all - and the Malfoys would like a distraction from... well... you know."

An uncomfortably long silence as Pansy grappled varyingly conflicting thoughts. She was disappointed that her mother had failed in her desperate attempts to woo Narcissa Malfoy, because she was still her mother after all, even if she is living the widow life of no-fun-no-happiness-and-constant-grieving. Additionally, however, she was honestly unsurprised that the Malfoy matriarch ultimately choose a proper yet dull girl to wed her son; unfortunately saddened in a manner she couldn't precisely put words to; and glad that finally, after everything was announced and done, she would not be the one to marry Draco Malfoy. All in all, her mental complexity could not soothe itself and Pansy needed to grip Daphne's forearm to still herself. Though she didn't want her newly minted friend to think she was stricken with grief, she felt comfortable enough to stray from her cold-hearted demeanor. 

"I think I'm relieved," she said after what seemed like ages.

 Daphne gave her an odd look before offering a soft smile. "Fierce and ambitious," she muttered back, unclasping Pansy's hand then holding it softly as she guided her towards the glass displays. "Intelligent and intense. Now..."

She trailed off and looked down at at the jeweled chains and pendants in the displays. Pansy bit her bit her bottom lip and nodded, grateful to finally escape that moment. Surely, she will have no control over the tears that came later in the evening, however with Daphne she easily held back. As the pair spent the rest of the hour awing at the beautifully polished, Pansy pushed all other thoughts from her mind. Daphne's chatter escalated past mindlessness, and now Pansy merely allowed herself to delve into the girl's idiosyncrasies. She laughed genuinely and lightly added her thoughts to their careful shopping until they both selected jewelry they were content with. Daphne picked a loose lilac and light rose gold chain. Pansy, who purposefully ignored how her purchase would later seem like a lie, choose a choker lined with black jewels and rubies.

**October 21, 1996 (evening)**

In many ways, there are witches who were born to lead the pack of socialites, and there are witches who were born to fret over being accepted by that very pack. For a long time, Pansy confidentially lived her life as the former and, apparently for a similarly long time, Daphne lived her life in the world of the latter.

While Pansy patiently brushed her hair to ensure not a hair was out of place, Daphne was on the verge of throwing out every pair of shoes she owned due to their perceived imperfection. As Pansy slowly and carefully applied her mascara, Daphne cursed every god she was aware of because her dress must have morphed in her bag and no longer fit the way it did in the boutique. The moment Pansy finally put the finishing touches on her lips, Daphne was still dripping wet from her second shower – the one she took because she was certain that her running around had caused her to start sweating, and thus start stinking, and obviously that was a clear violation of what it meant to be a top tier Slytherin witch.

“And now we’re going to be late and they probably won’t even let us in. I’ve ruined our night! You hate me! No one will ever speak to me again – I’m done, I’m moving to France, I’m never coming back, I’m such a-”

“Daphne!” Pansy shouted, finally pushing herself up from her vanity to grapple with her friend’s apparent meltdown. “It’s only 9:30-”

“It _starts_ at 9:30!”

“And no one who matters will get there until after ten,” she continued softly, placing her hands on Daphne’s shoulders and slowly pushing her backwards until she was sitting on her bed. “Your dress is amazing; backless dresses are both sexy and classic. Those white pumps will go perfectly with it. All you need are hoop earrings and put your hair in a high ponytail. Then you’re done. I promise.”

Daphne sniffed and wiped her eyes, clearly still wracked with self-doubt, “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive,” she answered definitively. “Now, if you get dressed in the next fifteen minutes, I’ll do your hair and make-up.”

In an honest showing of confidence in her friend, Daphne plopped her self up from the bed and had her dress on in minutes. After securing her necklace and pausing momentarily while picking her bracelet, she slipped on her heels and gave herself an assured glance in the mirror before turning to Pansy with five minutes to spare.

Meanwhile, Pansy watched her while, oddly enough, her thoughts were on Potter. She had given her two confirmations that she would meet him again: one drunken, and the other in a vague wink. Still, she was wholly conflicted. She had run away from last nights’ party, and still felt ambivalent about going out for an excessive and crowded party where most of the eyes that landed on her would be thinking about her very public fall out with Draco. Still, as she quickly gave Daphne’s hastily put-together yet amazing look a once over, Pansy knew that she had to strap on her heels and give her ideal-minded friend the night she yearned for.

And her grin of triumph and relief was enough for Pansy to reveal a small smile of her own. It wasn’t hard to hear the comments around Daphne around their house and the castle; she was vain, simple-minded, naïve, essentially a girl walking on air with her mind in the clouds. However, though their friendship was barely a few weeks old, Pansy couldn’t help but to doubt that perception, while she had thought that same thing up until recently.

As she guided Daphne towards her vanity and began to magically dry her hair, she looked in the mirror and saw a trusting, loyal, and earnest girl. She was emotionally intelligent in a way most didn’t recognize, and one of the few people Pansy knew who didn’t give up on lost causes.

And after nearly two months of feeling like a lost cause, Pansy felt indebted to her. Daphne refused to give up on her, though Pansy had given her countless chances to.

“Now, doesn’t that look nice?” Pansy said as she twirled the end of Daphne’s long, blonde ponytail. Paired with a rose gold ponytail holder, her golden hair contrasted nicely against her skin.

“Oh, my – This is lovely!” Daphne exclaimed as she looked back and forth from her reflection to Pansy’s face.

“We’re still not finished with your makeup,” Pansy noted, moving around Daphne’s chair until they were face to face. “I’m not sure how much I can help you there, though. You’ve got such a warm skin tone – clearly the Spanish in you. I’m part Korean, lest you forget, and my father was from York, curse him. So all my makeup is for only for my pale, cool-skinned arse.”

Daphne chuckled and rolled her eyes as she started rummaging through some of the kits she had laid out on her bed. “Use some of my things. I trust your hand much more than I do mine.”

Over the next fifteen minutes, Pansy meticulously and dotingly applied her makeup. It took longer than it should have, but she couldn’t stop snorting every time Daphne tried to jump into one of her long tales. While Pansy tried to perfectly sculpt her eyebrows, Daphne started complaining about how the Carrow sisters always looked as if they were seconds away from a turning into ghosts and floating away; as she carefully swept on a thin layer of blush, the blonde launched into a detailed account of the time she walked into her younger sister masturbating; and the last straw came when Pansy was finally putting the final touches on her eyeshadow and Daphne thought it was the perfect time to inform her about the day her betrothal was announced.

“Daphne, darling, I love you, but I’ll make sure you leave the dorms tonight looking like a cow if you move more more time,” Pansy asserted, holding the the angled brush in her hand sharply, like a threat, though her teasing smirk gave her away.

“You love me?” Daphne questioned, giving Pansy her own lighthearted smirk along with an arched eyebrow. “So sudden, Parkinson. I mean, what ever shall I do-”

“Oh, shut up,” she scoffed. “And really – stop moving! I’m nearly done!”

Luckily the pair was able to put their things together just after 10:30 and Daphne’s anxiety had lessened a significant amount. Pansy didn’t feel guilty as they linked arms and as quickly as possible moved around the castle until they reached the one-eyed witch statue on the third floor. They were both covered in their official Hogwarts cloaks as they quietly tip-toed about, and Pansy made sure that her Prefects badge was as prominent as possible, but it was better hat they weren’t caught than attempt to lie their way out of the situation to Filch.

It all seemed perfectly normal - exactly what she had wanted and expected out of her Sixth year before she had gotten in her own way. As they pair slipped through the secret passage way and their heels loudly clicked against the stone floor, Pansy felt a weight lift off her chest and she let out a shaky laugh, causing Daphne to tighten her arm around hers. The girls glanced at each other and smiled, before making their way into the night that would completely erase Pansy's feeling of security once more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay! I haven't been feeling very well and I still need to write the gap between this chapter and the final ten chapters (which are already either written or drafted)!


End file.
